Short Passes
by 8560
Summary: Hiruma Yoichi and Anezaki Mamori. A series of one-shot short passes between the angelic manager and the demonic quarterback throughout their high school years.
1. Pretty

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

**Short Pass: Pretty**

_Hiruma didn't find his manager's attractiveness to be anything remarkable, other than the ability to use her many admirers' soppy love letters as blackmailing fodder._

Anezaki Mamori was pretty.

Hiruma Youichi knew this, though from the way he acted toward her most people didn't think that he did. But he had eyes, didn't he? It was obvious that the fucking manager was a fine representative of her gender, with long legs, soft hair, and wide blue eyes. That she seemed to not to notice herself and went around without makeup and wearing simple but practical clothing just made her stand out all the more in comparison to her fashion-slave, makeup-ed peers.

Hiruma knew she was pretty. But he didn't see what all the fuss was about. Sunsets were pretty. Flowers were pretty. Ming fucking vases were pretty. But what use were sunsets, flowers, and Ming fucking vases in getting them to the Christmas Bowl? Absolutely nothing, that's what.

So Hiruma didn't find his manager's attractiveness to be anything remarkable, other than the ability to use her many admirers' soppy love letters as blackmailing fodder.

One day he was yelling at the fucking shrimp and the fucking monkey on the roof about setting up the TV aerial he had blackmailed the audio club into giving him so they could watch live in the clubhouse the high school American football games they couldn't see in person. But it was windy that day, and the fucking brats couldn't hold the aerial in a position long enough for a picture to come clear from their precarious perch on the roof. He was spraying bullets at them to help them concentrate.

"How is it now, fucking fattie?" he called to Kurita, who was watching the screen inside.

"Sorry," came the immense linebacker's voice. "Still grainy."

"Fucking brats!" he yelled. "Concentrate!"

"S-sorry," stammered Sena, feet scrambling against the roof tiles against the wind.

"Fucking monkey!" Hiruma called to Monta. "You're supposed to be good at climbing!"

"I'm not a monkey!"

"What's going on?" The demon quarterback turned around to see Mamori carrying the bags of team snacks she had run out to buy. Her hair billowed around behind her in the wind. "Sena, Monta, what are you _doing?"_

"Hi, Mamori-neechan," said Sena shakily. "We're trying to set up the TV antenna—"

"You'll fall—" She glared at Hiruma. "It's too dangerous up there, even if it wasn't so windy! How could you make them—"

Hiruma leaned his Uzi against his shoulder. "Shut up, fucking manager. It'll teach them balance."

"Still no picture," came Kurita's mournful voice.

"They'll fall and break their _necks—" _

Hiruma shrugged. "If you are so worried, go up and help them."

Mamori gave him a dark look but dropped the bags and rolled up her sleeves before stalking toward the ladder.

"Mamori-neechan, no, it's too dangerous—"

"It's just as dangerous for you," Mamori told Sena tartly. "Besides, my arms are longer than both of yours, so we might be able to get it into a better position."

Hiruma snickered at the sight of Sena's and Monta's faces contorting in mortification as they once again were confronted with their diminutive height. However, Mamori was right—with her help they managed to get the antenna placed to gain better reception.

"Just a little more," said Kurita. "A little more…ok! Hold it right there!"

"Hold it right there, he says," muttered Monta. The three of them were stretched precariously far over the edge of the roof.

Mamori smiled. "It's ok. Hand me the power tool and we can bolt this into place before we let go."

Just then a few things happened.

Monta turned away to grab the power tool.

Mamori leaned forward to stabilize the antenna as Monta's grip loosened and got some of her hair caught in the antenna wires.

Sena, who was behind her, tried to help her get the strands loose.

Monta turned back, bringing the power tool perilously close to Sena's face.

Sena jerked away, jostling Mamori on the roof.

Mamori's feet, already balancing tenuously, slipped.

"MAMORI-NEECHAN, WATCH OUT!"

"Oh god, are you okay?"

"What happened?" Kurita came barreling out.

"Fucking brats! What the hell do you think you are doing?" Hiruma looked down. "Wake _up, _you fucking manager."

"Huh?" Mamori had closed her eyes on reflexe but then opened them to look up at Hiruma.

He snorted. "Fucking clumsy girl."

"What…what happened?"

"You _fell, _stupid."

"You…you caught me?"

"What was your first clue?" he retorted snarkily, though he was a little surprised himself. When she had started to fall, his body had moved on reflex—immediately dropping his gun, he'd run forward with his arms out and caught her with a grunt before she could hit the ground.

"Are you okay, Mamo-neesan?"

Mamori turned her head at Sena's and Monta's plaintive cry and waved a hand to show that she was all right.

"Get back to work, you fucking brats!" Hiruma yelled at them. He trained his gaze on Kurita. "What happened to the picture, fucking fattie?"

"I, uh…"

"Go check!"

"I'm fine," Mamori told Kurita with a smile,

Relieved the lineman lumbered back inside.

"Umm…" Mamori was looking up at Hiruma again. "Thank you."

"Hmph." He made a noncommittal sound. The wind and the shock had whipped bright color into her cheeks and blown the hair around her face like tangled auburn ribbons. The sun had decided to make an appearance, slanting light over her face so it caught in her eyes, making them brighter. For the first time, Hiruma understood why Mamori had so many followers.

"Err…Can you put me down?"

Watching with interest as the color in her cheeks started to intensify, he smirked and said, "What, getting nervous?"

Her face was definitely red now. "No! I…I just have a lot of work to do!"

He held her for a beat more and then said, "Good. You need the exercise. I think all those creampuffs have been going to your hips, fucking manager."

"What?" Her eyes popped. "Put me down at once!"

"Kekekekeke!" He laughed and put her down. She gave him an affronted look and then gathered the bags to stalk inside. Hiruma watched her and glanced down at his hands. They tingled a little where he'd touched her and could attest to the fact that creampuffs or not, the hips were just fine.

"Umm…"

Hiruma looked up to see Sena and Monta looking down at him, expressions surprised, confused, and scandalized all at once. That wouldn't do. He retrieved his gun and fired at them. "Back to work, brats!"


	2. Idiot

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

**Short Pass: Idiot**

_Even Idiots have survival instincts. _

Taki was continually amazed at how much the gods favored him.

Ok, so he dropped out of school and then got lost for several weeks in America trying to find the Armadillo try-outs. But he found them, didn't he?

Ok, so no one was really impressed with his skills, he failed the pro test, and his sister followed him and yelled at him and skated on his head. Which hurt. But then he got invited to join the Deimon Devil Bats, didn't he?

Ok, so joining the Deimon Devil Bats involved running across the United States in hellish heat with an even more hellish captain/quarterback shooting and shouting at him all the time. But once he survived the Death March, he could go back to Japan and wow everybody with his genius and skill as a tight-end, right?

Really, it was amazing how everything worked out.

And then there was Anezaki Mamori.

"Would you like some water, Taki-kun?"

Taki peeled his face off the asphalt and forced a bright grin and a weary sparkle. "Why, of course, Mademoiselle! Not, of course, that a genius like me would _need _it, but it's important to stay hydrated!"

"Idiot," muttered his sister, untying herself from the lead around his waist. "You're lucky you didn't die of heat exhaustion. What does your weird spinning have to do with football training?"

Mamori just laughed, and handled him the bottle. Taki unscrewed the top and drank about half of it in one gulp as he watched her try to revive Monta. Though he was, of course, a genius, he was impressed by the smaller boy's stamina and determination not to be beat by him, Taki. They had kept up with each other until Hiruma and Doburoku-sensei had finally called a break for the night.

"Fucking idiot and fucking monkey." Speaking of the devil, the spiky blond came walking up with his gun on his shoulder. "You'd better not die here. Fucking manager, you better make sure that they are up tomorrow. I'll shoot them if they're not."

Hiruma Yoichi had even been known at Taki's old school, though only as a hushed and frightened whisper. Taki could now attest that any rumors he'd heard were true, and not exaggerated at all. Even a genius like him found the man somewhat frightening.

Anezaki Mamori, to Taki's surprise, was not affected in the slightest. "If they are given a chance to rest, they'll be fine," she said coolly. "They'd be even better if you wouldn't drive them so hard-"

"Kekekekeke!" Hiruma snorted. "You know perfectly well we can't slow down, fucking manager."

Mamori gave a small sigh as if to say, _well, I tried. _But instead she stood up and held out another water bottle to the quarterback. "_You _need to keep hydrated as well," she said. "And how's your knee?"

Hiruma looked like he was about to refuse, but Mamori kept holding out the bottle and looking at him expectantly. To Taki's surprise, Hiruma folded and grabbed the bottle before walking away. "You worry too much, fucking manager. Look after the brats."

"Wow," whispered Suzuna to Taki. "Mamo-nee is pretty cool, huh?"

_Hmmm... _Taki scratched his chin thoughtfully. Mamori was indeed pretty cool. He had just met her, but even he could tell that Anezaki Mamori was an impressive individual. She was smart, kind, patient, brave and determined. And, of course, very pretty. In short, Taki decided before going to sleep, she would be the _perfect _girlfriend for a future football star.

Taki was of course sure that Mamori would be _delighted _to be the girlfriend of such a wonderful guy, but years of living with Suzuna and skates to the head had pounded in the notion that girls at least liked to be wooed a _little._ So over the next few days, Taki made a point to seek her out. His twirling and leg spinning was in rare form, and he always grabbed the seat by her during breaks. Suzuna and some of the others gave him weird looks, but he seemed to be making good progress-she always laughed at his jokes (even when he wasn't making any) and always seemed to happy to talk to him. He learned that her favorite food was creampuffs, her birthday was November 24th, she had grown up with Sena, and her worst subject was art.

After the third day, Taki decided to go in for the kill. "So, Mademoiselle Anezaki, do you have a boyfriend?"

She stared at him in surprise. "Well, no. I'm far too busy for that."

"Perfect!" He gave her his trademark Grin/Wink/Sparkle. "Since we are on the same team now, why don't you become _my-"_

Quite suddenly, Taki was looking at the wrong end of a flamethrower.

"Eh? AHHHHHH!"

He barely ducked in time to avoid getting his face barbequed as Hiruma laughed maniacally.

"KEKEKEKEKEKE! Break's over, brats! Back to work and _stop fucking around._" His tone was pitched to address the whole team, but he was looking straight at Taki. Taki felt a shiver run down his spine-was it just his imagination or was the quarterback's expression particularly menacing...? But then he had to duck and dive out the back of the truck as Hiruma sent another wave of flame over them all.

Later, Taki would decide that he imagined it. After all, what possible reason would Hiruma have for specifically targeting him? The quarterback was a psychotic nutjob, but you could at least say that he was non-discriminatory in his mania.

However, Taki thought that maybe Mamori wouldn't make the perfect girlfriend after all. Well, she probably _would _but was it really a good idea to put all his eggs in one basket? After all, he was sure that Deimon High would have plenty of nice girls who would be interested in becoming a football genius's girlfriend. There was no reason to just limit himself to the first pretty girl he met.

Yeah, that was the reason. Nothing to do with pointed flamethrowers and spiky blond hair at all.


	3. Sign

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

**Short Pass: Sign**

_How Hiruma deals with the silent treatment. _

Afterwards, Hiruma couldn't remember what argument had even been _about. _Something ridiculous, he had to imagine. While he did actually respect Anezaki Mamori for her brain, level-headedness and determination, she did seem to get upset over the stupidest things. His "Minefield of Hell" training, where he had the players practice their maneuverability and speed on the field by running through, well, a minefield was a common topic (though he couldn't see why; it worked, didn't it?). Maybe it was that.

Whatever it was, the fucking manger didn't talk to him for a week. At first he rather enjoyed it. Days without having to her harp on about how dangerous his methods were for her precious Sena and the others? Ya-ha! Eventually, though, it began to get annoying. She would refuse to even acknowledge his existence when he yelled at her, so the other team members had to act as go-betweens when he needed something done. The rare times she couldn't avoid talking with him, she used the same go betweens. It was ridiculous and wasted valuable time.

Finally he couldn't take it anymore. Ignoring the looks the rest of the team was giving him, he threw down his helmet after practice to stalk over to her. Her eyes flicked up briefly as he approached but then back to her notepad with supreme indifference. Oh no, that wouldn't do. So she wouldn't talk to him, eh? Just shooting at her was unlikely to work, unfortunately, since she seemed to have an uncanny ability to make the most mundane objects bulletproof, but let's see her ignore this.

He yanked the notepad from her grasp and when she couldn't avoid giving him an angry glare, he signed at her. She tried turning around to avoid him, but he followed her, fingers moving in a blur inches from her eyes.

_What the hell are you mad about, you fucking manager?_

Finally, she gave in and signed back.

_Like you don't know. _

_Actually, fucking manager, I don't. Why don't you tell me, so I can tell you how stupid you are being, and we can get back to normal?_

_As if!_

_You do know giving someone the silent treatment is really childish. I thought you were a second year. _

_Childish? You are calling me childish? Well, at least I am not clearly compensating for something. _

_What? _Hiruma narrowed his eyes. _Oh, you just did fucking NOT. _

_Well… _Mamori slid a glance at the tall rifle leaning against his hip. _One has to wonder. _

There was no way this girl was going to get the better of him in verbal combat. _So you do know what those things are. I wondered, what with the whole prude, uptight thing you have going on. _

_I am not prude! Just because I'm a little modest doesn't mean—_

_You dress like a nun. _Actually the practical gym tops and pants she favored for practice were quite fitted and outlined her form nicely, but Hiruma blackmailed for practically a living. Lies rolled off his tongue—or fingers—quite well. _And really fucking uptight and anal. I'm surprised that you are so good at signing only after a week I sent you the updates to the code. You must have practiced for hours. Didn't have anything better to do, huh?_

Somehow Hiruma was rewarded by seeing her back stiffen. _Just because I take pride in my work doesn't mean—you make me so mad, I could kiss you!_

Hiruma froze. Then his grin widened abruptly. She really had memorized the whole code. He'd made some changes to the sign she had invented but snuck in "kiss" and purposely made it similar to "kick" just to test how far she was willing to go to learn the damn thing. But from the look at her face, running high with color, she had no idea what she'd just done.

"Really," he said out loud. "That's an odd reaction. So mad you could _kiss _me, huh, fucking manager?"

Her brow furrowed in puzzlement for a second, but realization of her mistake slowly dawned in glorious mortification. "I—"

Hiruma captured whatever she was going to say out of those pretty pink lips with his own. It was only for a second, but that was enough to snap a picture with his phone. "Kekekeke. There you go," he said, showing her the shot. "You done being mad now? You just kissed me so I think we're even."

"W-what? Y-yes—no wait! You were the one who—"

"Kekekeke! New Threat Book entry I think," Hiruma said, walking off. He was supremely pleased with himself. And…huh. He licked his lips as he walked away. Apparently the manager liked strawberry-flavored lip gloss.

Delicious.


	4. Cute

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

**Short Pass: Cute**

_So when Suzuna said, "You-nii actually pretty cute, you know?" to her one day, Mamori felt her brain break_

Hiruma Yoichi was not cute.

In fact, Anezaki Mamori was pretty sure that Hiruma was the very opposite of cute, and was not even sure the man would recognize the word. Cute things were small, sometimes fuzzy, sometimes round things that inspired feelings of love and protectiveness.

Bunnies were cute.

Kittens were cute.

Sena and the younger Devil Bats were cute.

Hiruma, on the other hand, was tall, angular and spiky. He was a psychotic nutjob that blackmailed everyone he came across, shot at the rest and probably blew up his moral compass a long time ago. _He _inspired feelings of fear, terror, and the need to get-the-hell-away-from-here.

So when Suzuna said, "You-nii's actually pretty cute, you know?" to her one day, Mamori felt her brain break.

Barely managing not to spit her soda in the cheerleader's face, the manager set the cup down carefully and looked at her friend equally carefully. "What?"

"Don't you think?" said the other girl. "You-nii can be pretty cute sometimes, right?"

The two of them were in a local fast food place, grabbing a quick bite to eat before practice. Mamori usually looked forward to these times, as she'd sometimes missed having a girl friend to talk to as she became more and more involved with the American football club—her old friends thought she was weird or were too afraid of Hiruma to come to practice.

Right now, though, Mamori was afraid that Suzuna had gone insane. "Are you insane?"

Suzuna blinked at her innocently. "No, really. Don't you think he's cute?"

Mamori pinched the bridge of her nose. She had a sinking feeling that Suzuna was trying to start another conversation about how she and Hiruma were perfect for each other. Well, Suzuna would call it a conversation, but Mamori didn't say anything back. She had only made that mistake once, of arguing that two, so wildly different people could never be together, only to be answered that well _of course _they could, that was what the whole opposites attract thing was _about._

"Suzuna…"

"I mean, you told about how during that insane Death March thing you did, he never showed any signs of weakness so he could look strong for the others. And then he told you to go take care of the team before him when you were going to ice his knee! Isn't _that _cute?"

Mamori blinked. Well, she had used those two instances to explain to Suzuna that the whole demon thing the quarterback had going on wasn't as scary as it seemed at first, but that was just so the girl wouldn't break into tears the first time Hiruma launched a rocket at her. And true, the Death March was the first time that Mamori realized that Hiruma wasn't as cold and unfeeling as she had thought before. But cute? Hiruma Yoichi was not _cute. _

"That just shows he actually cares for the rest of the team," Mamori replied. "I don't think that it means he's _cute."_

Suzuna sipped at her soda for a moment. "Ok, maybe not cute. But You-nii is pretty _hot, _you can't argue with that, right?"

That time, Mamori did choke on her soda. She pounded on her chest while Suzuna grinned at her. "You—"

"What?"

Mamori was saved from having to answer when her cell phone range. Pulling it out, she looked at the number. _Speak of the devil…literally. _"Hello?"

"Fucking manager," snapped Hiruma. "Where the hell are you? Get your ass over here!"

Mamori looked at the time. Oops. "Sorry, we'll be right over—"

"What are you doing, eating fucking creampuffs again?"

Mamori looked annoyed. "We're getting something to eat before practice. We're only 5 minutes late, don't—"

"Just get over here." Hiruma hung up with a click, leaving Mamori blinking at the abrupt disconnection.

Suzuna was already cleaning up. "Was You-nii mad?"

Mamori sighed. "No more than usual," she answered, though she thought she had detected something…else in his voice.

* * *

The reason for that the two girls found out when they arrived on Deimon's field, Inside of the usual gunshots and mad running that characterized the Devil Bats' usual practice, most of the team was huddled around the doorway of the clubhouse.

"Hey Sena!" Suzuna called. "What's going on? What's everyone doing?"

The running back turned around from his position by Monta and said, "It's Cerberus. I think he's hurt."

"What?" Mamori blinked. "The dog?"

Monta nodded. "Yup, Hiruma was using him to chase us like usual, but then I think he tripped over a hole made by the landmine last time, and he couldn't get back up. We got him inside the clubhouse but…"

Mamori was no longer listening at that point and was pushing her way through the crowd. "Excuse me, pardon me, excuse me…" she finally pushed through to see Cerberus laid out on the table. Kurita was looking down at him mournfully, Musashi looked at a loss, and Hiruma…well, Hiruma looked like he always did, with arms crossed and glaring down at his dog.

"Fucking manager, about time."

Mamori ignored him. "Sena and Monta told me what happened. Cerberus hurt his leg?"

"Yeah," said Kurita tearfully.

"And he's just been lying on this table the whole time?" Mamori asked incredulously. "Why don't you call the vet or something?"

"Hiruma hasn't been able to take him to a vet since he was 2 years old," Musashi said. "He bit the last one up too much. Even blackmail doesn't work."

Mamori looked surprised at that. "Really?" She sighed. "I guess we'll have to do it."

The three boys stared at her. "What?" Kurita said, voice shaking. "Bandage _Cerberus?_"

"Well, who else is going to do it? You told me that no vet would. That leg isn't going to heal on its own, we have to splint it. Where's the first aid kit?"

Looking around, she spotted it on top of one of the lockers and strained up on tiptoe for it. But a long bony arm grabbed it instead. "Thank you," she told Hiruma in surprise.

"Do you know what you are doing, fucking manager?"

"It can't be much different than taping the rest of you up when you get hurt," she retorted, though inside she was a little nervous. This was _Cerberus, _after all, the devil dog that was feared almost as much as his master. His teeth had terrified lesser men, and Mamori wasn't even a man.

Squaring her shoulders, she approached the table with the first aid kit. Laying out her materials, she bit her lip as she reached out for the injured leg. But as soon as she touched it, the dog's head whipped around and he bared his teeth at her in a fearsome growl.

_Eep! _Mamori jumped back.

"Fucking dog," Hiruma said in exasperation, and came forward. Long fingers reached out and gently but firmly pinned down Cerberus's head and back legs. "What are you waiting for?" he demanded.

"O-oh, right." Mamori came forward again. Cerberus growled again, but with Hiruma holding him he couldn't bite and soon just whined pitifully as Mamori wrapped and splinted the leg.

Mamori peeked at the quarterback as she was doing it and was surprised by the intense look on his face. But then blue eyes flicked to her. "Are you fucking done yet?"

"Almost." Finishing, she stood back. Hiruma snorted, then shocked everyone by picking up the dog from the table and depositing him in his basket in the corner.

A finger shot out. "Stay," he ordered.

It further shocked everyone when Cerberus growled a little but obeyed. Hiruma looked up to see the slack jaws of everyone at the doorway and yanked out his rocket launcher. "What the hell are you doing, brats? Back to work!"

Feet scrambled as everyone rushed out of the way of the incoming missile.

* * *

Cerberus appeared to have just badly sprained his front leg and not totally broken it, so was up and limping around after a few days. Oddly, it wasn't Mamori who kept the most watch over the dog, but Hiruma. He made the team fill in the holes in the field under the guise of it being a speed drill, and every time the dog seemed about to run and strain his leg prematurely, the quarterback sent a spray of warning shots in his direction. He even took over checking the leg's bandages and making sure the swelling was going down from Mamori after watching her once and peppering her with questions.

Mamori made the mistake of telling all this to Suzuna, who nudged her back with a wink and a grin. "See? What did I tell you? It's totally adorable that he really does care for his dog. Right?"

Mamori sighed and shook her head, but…looking at the quarterback yelling obscenities further down the field…well. As weird as it was, and as much as she hated to admit it, the Hiruma over the past week who worried over his dog and was equally worried about showing it…

Hiruma glared at Cerberus, who had trotted out beside him to watch and barked a question. "Sit _down, _you damn dog. I'm using the AK-47 today. _Run, _you fucking brats, _run!"_

…well, that was kind of cute. In a psychotic nutjob sort of way.


	5. Cabinet

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21

Author's note: Skipping back a bit to very early days...

**Short Pass: Cabinet**

_"If you get snot on me, I'll kill you."_

"This is," Hiruma snarled, "is all your fault, fucking manager."

"It is not!" Mamori protested. "And I told you, don't call me that!"

"You're the one who had to go and fucking clean everything!"

"You couldn't even see the floor! How on earth did you work in here before?"

"Pretty damn fine, fucking manager!"

"_I have a name!"_

When Anezaki Mamori demanded to join the Devil Bats, ostensibly to protect Sena from him, Hiruma Yoichi had been only too happy to let her. Free work was free work, even from Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. He was quickly revising that opinion, though, as Miss Goody-Two-Shoes also turned out to be Miss Annoying-Morality, Miss Argue-with-Everything, Miss Fucking-Clean-the-Clubhouse-so-I-Don't-Know-Where- Shit-Is-Anymore!

He'd arrived at the clubhouse to prepare for practice but couldn't find his Kalashnikov anywhere. Or his AK-47. Or the Uzi. He'd demanded their location from the manager, but she had just shrugged and said that she had shoved them in one of the office cabinets and honestly, what was he, a high school student, doing with so many firearms anyway? How had he even gotten a permit? He'd broken into laughter-a _permit? _She really thought that he would bother with a _permit? _Anyway, it was none of her damn business, and what the hell, stay the fuck away from his guns!

Hiruma had been more annoyed when he opened the lockers to find his guns just piled any old way. Ok, he wasn't the neatest of people, but he did take good care of his armaments and you don't just _dump _them like that. Whatever, he'd worry about it after practice. He found the guns he wanted ok, but when it came to the ammunition...where the hell did she put all the ammunition? Hiruma started yanking everything out because the damn bullets weren't any_where. _

That had gotten the manager all riled up though, as she started complaining that he was ruining all her work and started putting things back _in. _Somehow it degenerated into a contest of who could take stuff out/put stuff back the fastest,and they were still at it when Sena showed up and asked in a trembling voice what they were doing. Hiruma told him to mind his own damn business, but Mamori yelled at him not to talk to Sena that way.

The problem was, she stood up to do so (having been previously crouching to shove pistols back into the bottom) and slipped on a rifle rolling on the floor. She fell backward into the cabinet. Hiruma might have laughed that she was getting her just desserts except she grabbed his shirt as she fell, yanking him into the cabinet as well. And as _he _fell, he'd grabbed at the cabinet door, which slammed shut after them. Sena had tried to get them out, but the door had gotten stuck and he wasn't strong enough to pull it loose. Finally, Hiruma ordered him to go find the fucking fattie to yank the door off.

And so Hiruma Yoichi and Anezaki Mamori ended up wedged together in a very narrow space, unable to move or do anything until help arrived. Dammit. It had to be Monday, didn't it?

* * *

Anezaki Mamori desperately wanted to rub her temples, a really bad headache was coming on, but there wasn't space. What space wasn't occupied by her was occupied by a very annoying, very irritating, very _infuriating _quarterback. It was something out of a romantic shojo manga, honestly-they had fallen inside the very small cabinet with his hands on either side of her waist and her head wedged under his chin so all she could see was the hollow of his collarbone. Her hand was still fisted in his shirt, and they were pressed together so close that she could feel his heartbeat under her fingers.

But it wasn't romantic, because she was stuck in an office cabinet with _Hiruma Yoichi_, of all people. And he was blaming her for the whole situation and _still _refusing to use her actual name. If it wasn't for Sena, there was no way she would have willingly tortured herself by joining the American Football club and dealing with _him _every day.

It was horribly uncomfortable and the cabinet smelled of gunpowder and gun oil. She wrinkled her nose.

"Stop that." His breath fanned the hair over her ear.

"What?" she wrinkled her nose again, and it brushed the skin below his neck.

"That! It...tickles."

"It smells in here and it's making me want to sneeze," she told him tartly.

"If you get snot on me, I'll kill you."

She rolled her eyes. Oh yes, this was _real _romantic. Mamori sighed. Well, there was nothing better to do until Kurita arrived, so might as well..."Why don't you ever use my name?"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, it's not like we can go anywhere, so I thought we could try and have a conversation."

"Fucking manager, we talk all the time. I wish you would shut up."

"We _argue _all the time, that's not the same. I want to know why you never use my name."

This time he sighed, and his breath fanned over her hair again. "Newsflash-I hardly use _anybody's _fucking name. Or is it the swearing that's offending your precious sensibilities?"

She bristled at the sarcasm in his voice. "It's not the swearing. My grandfather in America swears almost as much as you do. But just calling me the manager-"

"But that's your _title._" She couldn't see his face, but his bafflement at the thought processes of females was clear in his voice. "That's what you are and what you do. Besides, why would a Disciplinary Committee member would want the notorious Hiruma Yoichi calling her by _name? _People would think we were friends or something."

Now she was as baffled as he was. "You're trying to protect my reputation? Why? I thought I you were just using me as free labor."

She was expecting a smart come-back but instead there was a pause as he contemplated his response.

"Everyone uses everyone else in some way," he said finally. "You're using the manager role to protect the fucking shrimp, I'm using you for free work. But to be any fucking good at using people, you have understand their levers. You're very popular. If your association with the club and the rest of us who aren't in the fucking exalted popularity circle starts to decrease _your _reputation enough, the motivation to protect the shrimp won't be enough to stay. It's in my best interest to reduce your involvement with us to a functional role and protect your reputation so you'll stick around. Get it?"

Now it was Mamori's turn to pause. She hadn't thought that _he'd _thought through things that...analytically. Did he think of everything like that? Mamori had thought that Hiruma was just some crazy who did whatever he wanted when he wanted it, but if he'd thought through even what he _called _people in that detail... It was impressive, scary and fascinating all at once.

But still annoying. "Your analysis is off. Being popular is not one of my levers. If I say I'm going to be the manager of this club, I'm going to be the best manager I can be. I'm not going to just leave when things get tough. I don't care what others think as long as the people _I _care about still care about _me_."

"If you say so."

"I do say so!"

"Mamori-neechan, are you still there?" Sena's voice filtered from the outside.

"Where the fuck did he think we could go?" muttered Hiruma.

"I'm here, Sena!" Mamori called, ignoring the quarterback. "Did you find Kurita?"

She was answered by a grunt and then the screech of metal as the door to the cabinet was then bent and ripped off. With the door no longer holding their weight, Hiruma and Mamori fell out with a pile of guns on top of them. Mamori in particular was hit in the back of the head something.

"Oww..."

"Are you ok?" Kurita asked.

"_There _it is," Hiruma said, lifting the box of ammunition from Mamori's back. He looked down at her. "Get off, fucking manager."

Mamori opened her mouth automatically but then closed it. Well, if he thought that she was going to _leave _if her reputation took a little hit, she would have to prove him wrong. Until then, she was just going to have to deal with him not using her name. "I'm fine," she told Kurita and Sena with a smile, pushing up from Hiruma's chest and dusting herself off.

He glared at Sena and Kurita who were watching them. "What the hell are you doing just standing there? Go practice!" He fired at them and they took off with a yipe.

Before she could scold him for that, he slapped a stack of paper in her hands. "If you are going to be the best manager, then you better start doing your homework. Those are my notes on the other teams in the area-start reading up."

"Fine. After," she cast a significant glance at the mess of firearms, bullets, rockets and who knows what else littering the floor, "the rest of this gets put away again."

"_I'll_ put them away this time," Hiruma snapped at her.

She shrugged. "Suit yourself. Though you ought to think of a place better than that cabinet. Maybe a weapons silo."

She didn't mean it in a serious way, but was startled to see an especially wide grin crossing his face. "Kekekeke. Not a bad idea, fucking manager. I'll have to talk to the principal..." He popped a piece of gum in his mouth and grabbed a football on his way out the door.


	6. Realization

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

Author's note: Thank you Cherry Tiger! Mamori's friends' names now updated. I knew it was an A and an S...

**Short Pass: Realization**

_She could barely manage to think the words in her head, it was so insane._

After Sena revealed himself as Eyeshield 21 in the match against the Bando Spiders, Deimon High was in an uproar. Well, the rest of the high school American Football world too, but especially Deimon High. How could wimpy little bully gopher _Kobayakawa Sena _be the rocketing football speed ace Eyeshield 21? It was mind-boggling.

Even Mamori's old friends Sara and Ako were peppering her with questions. It was somewhat annoying, as this was the first lunch they had been able to eat together for a while, but Mamori supposed that she couldn't blame them.

_Did you know that he was Eyeshield 21?_

"No, I had absolutely no idea. It came as a surprise to me too."

_Why? How could you not know? You had practice together nearly every day!_

"Well, Sena always changed into Eyeshield 21 behind the scenes and I was busy doing something else..." Though Mamori should have known. After all it wasn't as if the rest of the team's excuses were all that great. And she had already known that running was pretty much the only gym subject that Sena was any good at...

It was, she was loathe to admit, willful blindness on her part. She had spent so many years looking after Sena and trying to protect him from _everything _that she could literally not conceive that he could be such a strong player. Even though she had noticed that Sena was maturing a little in the football club and was proud of him for sticking through Hiruma's hellish practices, something still did not compute. She was mortified that she had missed so many signposts along the way (honestly the Death March? How had she not noticed during the _Death March?_) and realized that what she had thought was just protectiveness was in fact looking down on Sena and his potential.

It was still taking her awhile to work through all the feelings that she didn't have time to right after Sena's confession in the game. Mamori wondered if that was why Hiruma had asked Suzuna to be Sena's "agent" (well, ordered in that "Don't let the other teams fucking poach him, fucking skate girl" way of his) instead of her. At first she had been at little hurt, but she soon recognized that some space was probably good. Besides, if she was going to let Sena grow up finally, she was going to have to get used to seeing him with other girls. And she thought that he might be having a little crush on the cheerleader...

"Mamori? Earth to Mamori!"

"Uh, what?" Mamori jerked back to attention to find one of her friends waving a hand at her face. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"So are you still going to be the Devil Bats' manager?"

Mamori blinked. "Well, of course I am. Why do you ask?"

"But didn't you say that you were only going to be the manager to protect Sena? It seems to me that he's doing pretty well on his own. I mean, he's _Eyeshield 21! _Jeez, I'm never going to get over that."

Mamori managed to push off the question by muttering something about how she had made a commitment to the team, there were only a few more games until the end of the season and where else were they going to find someone to take over this late? Which was all true but...

Later, in her room at home, she thought: what if she did quit? Her friends were right, her original reason for even joining the team at all was completely moot at this point. True, it was late in the season to find a substitute for her, but Suzuna could probably do it in a pinch or Hiruma could blackmail someone else. Or he might not even need to blackmail anyone, as interest in the school's American Football team was skyrocketing.

If she wasn't the manager, she wouldn't have to spend all her nights and weekends on the field instead of doing homework or just hanging out with her friends. She wouldn't have to be constantly coming up with excuses for the quarterback's...unconventional training methods. She wouldn't spend countless sleepless nights running through plays. True, she'd never get to laugh with the team and relax over food after a long day of practice, but she could actually _enjoy _a game instead of feeling like she was going to have a heart attack every time the Devil Bats got hurt.

If she wasn't the manager, she'd never spend another afternoon arguing with Hiruma over the analysis of past games. She'd never have him tease her about creampuffs and snacking and her bad art. She'd never experience the almost telepathic light-speed communication they had during a game.

She'd never get to see Hiruma Yoichi at all except occasionally in class or as a small spiky blond figure way down on the field...

Mamori suddenly stiffened. Since when did she look forward to seeing _Hiruma? _He was a psychotic blond nut, with a tongue even sharper than his hair, incurably violent tendencies, and a tendency to not only ignore societal rules but blow them up with twelve packs of C4. Seeing his behavior once was enough to make her join the Deimon High Disciplinary Committee.

But he also cared greatly about his friends, though he tried not to show it. He pushed others hard, but never more than they could bear, and he would never ask the team to do anything that he was not willing to do himself. He worked harder than anyone. He was incredibly smart, determined, surprisingly trustworthy and challenged her like nobody else...

If she wasn't the manager anymore, she would miss him, she realized. Sure, she would miss everyone else too, but she thought about rooting for them on the sidelines, or perhaps stopping by with snacks every once and awhile. But she would _miss him, _and the thought of suddenly not seeing him every day was like someone giving a great big wrench to her world.

_Oh god. _Mamori stared aghast at the ceiling. _Oh nooo... _When did this happen? Her brain started ticking over the past few months, and couldn't pinpoint it. But it had happened, apparently, and oh god...

She could barely manage to think the words in her head, it was so insane. _I've..._

One thing was certain-she couldn't let him know. She was _terrified _of letting him know. _She would give up creampuffs before letting him know. _True, they got along a lot better now than in the beginning, but she could not think of any time that he treated her any better than anyone else. She wasn't a long-time friend, like Musashi or Kurita. She wasn't a team ace like Sena or Monta or even Taki. She supposed he did at least think that she was useful, and a step up from a mere slave... For example, he let her argue with him about ideas (and perhaps even encouraged it, as she was practically the only person who would do so) but he still collected pictures and who knows what else on her for his Threat Book.

He had even kissed her once (oh god) and didn't feel anything. Instead he did it as a joke and to get another compromising photo. Though she supposed that she was glad he'd done that before she realized...this, because she wasn't sure what she would do if he did it now.

Mamori screwed her eyes shut and groaned into her pillow. It was still a long way until the Christmas Bowl.


	7. First

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

Author's note: I will ship Hiruma X Mamori until the Christmas Bowl and beyond (duh, that's why I'm writing these), but did anyone else get the feeling that Mamori and Musashi were a lot closer in school than just classmates? I mean, _look _at her expression when they talk about him. You don't look like that for just another desk in the room.

**Short Pass: First**

_First guy doesn't always win. The couple from the outside._

If American Football had not exploded into their lives, it was safe to say that most of the Devil Bats would have never known one another other than a vague recognition of a name or a wave in the hallway.

This was not the case with Anezaki Mamori and Takekura "Musashi" Gen.

Later, he would wonder what would have happened if his father's health had never deteriorated and he'd never had to drop out of school. The wonderings were never more than a fleeting thought, he owed it to them not to let them become anything else, but they did pass over his mind occasionally.

You see, Musashi saw her first.

The first time was at the Deimon High freshmen orientation. She had been one of the neophytes to Hiruma's particular madness and stared like the rest at the football decorations that had plastered the room. Musashi had only noticed her as a teenage boy (despite his face) would notice a pretty girl.

He kept noticing her as the weeks followed because Mamori was...different than the other girls. He wasn't sure what it was, but he watched her in classes as she answered the teacher and did her turn of the chores, he noted as she joined the Disciplinary Committee, he saw the way she took notes meticulously in careful pen.

Still, Musashi may have left it at that, except one day she caught him practicing his kicks on the field Hiruma had blackmailed the principal for. His two friends weren't there yet-Kurita making a snack run and Hiruma doing god knows what-so he was practicing alone. He was just setting up the ball again when he heard clapping.

Turning around, he saw Mamori, her hair stirring in the breeze and her eyes catching the light of the setting sun.

"Wow, you're very good," she told him.

"Uh, thanks," he told her, somewhat embarrassed.

"What kind of ball is that?" she asked, approaching curiously. "I've never seen one in that shape."

"It's a football."

"Aren't football's black, white and round*?"

"Yeah, but this is an American football."

She blinked at him. "What's the difference?"

He wasn't as good as explaining as Hiruma and his demented animations were, and eventually just recommended the same book Kurita had given him when he'd first joined the American Football Club. She wrote the title down in that neat handwriting of hers and waved goodbye just as Kurita and Hiruma rounded the corner.

Slowly but steadily, Musashi stopped just noticing her but actually talked to her. They didn't become friends or anything, but if she saw him in the hall she would smile and wave, and if she passed the field on the way home and he was there, she would stop to talk.

Hiruma teased him about it but Hiruma didn't like her because Mamori had caught him in the hall one day blackmailing one of the quieter students. The student was a real creep and had a penchant for stalking the girls locker rooms, but from the outside it certainly looked like a straight on bullying and Mamori wasn't having any of that. Musashi remembered being impressed by her complete lack of fear in confronting the Blackmail God when most girls squealed away.

Weeks turned into months and a couple of times Musashi thought about asking her out. She was kind, pretty, smart and dedicated. He liked her. But then his dad's health took a sharp and drastic turn for the worse and girls were the last thing on his mind. The last time he saw Mamori was the day in the hallway where he was trying to smoke to get expelled.

More than a year passed and one day he got a phone call from Hiruma with a work order to expand their old clubhouse. He hadn't wanted to take it, but the money was good (though he was careful not to ask where Hiruma got it) and his dad's medical bills were still high. It had been hard to go back, but he was curious about what had happened after he'd left. Though he had decided he could never play again, it was fun to watch the ragtag team of freshmen and other sports players Hiruma had conned into joining the team.

And then, of course, Mamori was there. She had become the team's manager in a turn of events he wasn't quite sure he understood, other than her protective instincts over the little running back Hiruma was calling Eyeshield 21 had gotten the better of her. She was still as kind, pretty, smart and dedicated as he remembered, and still got on badly with Hiruma.

Apparently. Though appearances were deceiving. He had been nailing the last shingles to the roof of the latest addition to the clubhouse when below Mamori and Hiruma walked out. As usual, they were arguing. He mostly ignored it these days, but today he took a break to watch.

They could probably argue about the moon if they wanted to, so he didn't pay attention to the words. Instead, he looked at the faces. Musashi looked at the way Hiruma grinned at Mamori, he looked at the way Mamori's eyes glittered as she looked at Hiruma, he looked at the way they stood next to each other. And because he wasn't paying attention to the words, he heard all the things that they _weren't _saying, and probably didn't even know that they weren't saying.

_Huh, _he thought. And then, _those idiots. _And, with a little reluctance, he let his last thoughts of a kind, pretty, smart and dedicated girl go. She would be good for Hiruma, that was never a question, and Hiruma probably would be good for her.

Though, Musashi decided, picking up his hammer again, if Hiruma ever hurt her Musashi would have to see how far devil could run with gum stuck to each eyeball and one of his bazookas kicked up his ass.

* * *

*_Practically everyone outside of the US calls soccer "football". This is why American football is stressed so much in the series. _


	8. Almost

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

Author's Note: Hiruma does appear somewhat OOC in this, but exhaustion can make people act in funny ways...also, I am of the opinion that he usually intentionally exaggerates himself to 1. gain a psychological edge and 2. he thinks its funny. Which it is.

**Short Pass: Almost**

_Hiruma looked down at those sincere blue-green eyes and wondered, What the hell? Fucking manager, are you for real?_

The Game Against the Gods, as all the American Football magazines were now calling it, was brutal on everyone. Physically and mentally. It varied by player on which one hurt more, but it probably was an even tie in most.

Hiruma didn't have time for pain. He cancelled the next day's practice to give the team's muscles time to heal, but he was still in the clubhouse at the crack of dawn to work. The Dinosaurs were a real dark horse, even more unexpected a champion than the Devil Bats, and were going to be trouble if Gaou was any indication. Of course, the quarterback had a couple strategies for them anyway, but there weren't as many or as polished as the ones he had for the Knights. After a quick workout, he drank a pot of coffee, refined the plays he had and drafted off six more before the bell rang for class.

He should have skipped, as class only meant hours of sitting in a hard chair that his body didn't thank him for, and teachers droning on about material he'd taught himself months ago. The manager started making worried noises at him, but he ignored her.

Lunch meant another pot of coffee, a few painkillers that did absolutely nothing what-so-over, and more tactical brainstorming. Then back to class.

By the time the bell rang, Hiruma was somehow simultaneously jittery with caffeine and aching with exhaustion. But there was the helicopter trip to Oujou to take care of. Afterwards, he faked expressions of disgust at the team and an admonishment that they show up more fucking alive for practice the next morning or he was going to blow up their asses.

After sending the manager home with a packet of notes for her to analyze, he ran through what videos he had of the Dinosaurs' games, and his blackmail files for more information on the players' individual weaknesses.

By the time he finally exited the clubhouse, the sun was going down and he was seeing spots with weariness. His brain was so fogged that he forgot that he'd moved hotels again and walked in the wrong direction for a good 20 minutes before he remembered and had to turn back.

It was, he figured, a good thing that everyone else had gone home already. It wouldn't be good for his reputation as the "devil in the broad daylight" to be seen weaving almost drunkenly as he spent most of his remaining mental power trying to stay on his feet.

"...Hiruma?"

And now he was seeing things. What the hell was Anezaki Mamori doing here?

"Hey mister, watch out!"

_What? _Hiruma turned toward the shout, but since he was moving with all the speed of frozen molasses he only turned toward the thing that slammed into his temple before the world went black.

* * *

"It's all Yoshi's fault!"

"No, it's not-you should have caught it! Mamori-neechan, is he gonna die?"

Great, he was hearing voices. Voices of little brats. How boring. If he was going to go crazy (arguably, crazier), he wanted more interesting voices, like ones that told him to take over the world before the aliens did.

"No, but he hit his head very hard." This voice was older, female and familiar. "Yoshi, Kenichi, how many times have I told you not to play in the street?"

"Sorry, Mamori-neechan..."

Hiruma clawed his way toward consciousness, and immediately tried to claw back as his head exploded into pain. The only good thing that you could say about it was that the localized agony distracted from the more general aching of his entire body. At least it felt like he was lying on something soft.

"What the _fuck?"_

"Ooooo! Nee-chan, he said a bad word!"

A sigh. "He does that. Hiruma? Hiruma, can you hear me?"

Hiruma cracked his eyes open to see a pair of wide, worried blue-green eyes looking down at him, framed by short strands of silky auburn hair. Huh. So he hadn't been imagining things earlier.

"Fucking manager?" His head was in her lap. "What the hell are you doing here?"

There were two little brats next to her. The Brat 1, who was holding a football, jumped up and down while pointing. "See, he did it again! Nee-chan!"

"Are you going to wash his mouth out with soap?" Brat 2 asked earnestly.

Even holding his head in pain, Hiruma glared up at Mamori with an expression that said, _Don't even think about it. _

She sighed again. "Don't mind him, he has a...condition." Then she narrowed her eyes. "But if I _ever _hear you or Kenichi using that kind of language, soap will be the _least _of your problems, got it?"

"Yes, Mamori-neechan," the brats chorused.

"And what are the two of you doing out so late? Isn't it your dinnertime?" The kids looked at her with _oh crap _expressions eerily like the ones that Sena and Monta sometimes had. "Look both ways before crossing the street!" she yelled after them as they ran off. After a minute, presumably to make sure that they _did _look both ways before crossing the street, she looked back down at Hiruma.

"What the hell happened?"

"Yoshi and Kenichi's dad got them a football last week and they were playing catch," she replied matter of factly. "Unfortunately Yoshi's aim isn't very good yet and the ball hit you in the head and knocked you over. Good thing I was just returning from the store and saw it."

"Fucking midgets," he muttered.

"I _knew _you were pushing yourself too hard today-normally you could have dodged that. Can you stand up?"

What kind of stupid question was that? Of course he could stand-whoa. Damn. He braced himself on the playground wall as the world did loop-di-loops. But the manager was watching him with an intensely irritating knowing expression and he looked at her balefully. "I'm _fine," _he snarled.

"Sure you are," she said. He must be rubbing off on her-her tone was dripping with sarcasm. "People who are _fine _always look like they are about to fall over. C'mon, I live at the end of the street. You can sit down and I can take a better look at your head."

She came over and put her shoulder under his arm to support him, picking up her plastic grocery bag with her free hand. He was too surprised to protest until they were halfway there, and by then it would have been just stupid. She deposited him on the couch in the living room before vanishing into the bathroom.

Hiruma took the opportunity to look around. He'd never really thought about what kind of place the manager would live in, but if he did it probably would have looked something like this. The place wasn't big but it was of a good enough size. The furnishings were comfortable and well-worn but obviously well-taken care of, and everything was neat and tidy. Things were practically set up with little flourishes of decoration, like a vase of fresh flowers on the kitchen table and pretty curtains on the window. There was a note on the coffee table from her mother, saying that she had just left for her Girl's Night, and to remember her father would be back from his business trip tomorrow evening.

Mamori reappeared with the first aid kit, which she set on the coffee table before sitting next to it herself.

"Okay, let me see it."

"See what-hey!"

Without waiting, she grabbed Hiruma's chin gently but firmly and turned his face to the side. "I thought so. Now hold still, this might sting a bit."

"What-ow! Fucking manager, what the hell?"

"I _told _you that it might sting," she said, frowning at him. "You scraped your head on the sidewalk when you fell. You're lucky that you didn't crack it all the way open, but it's bleeding and I need to clean it and disinfect it. Now don't be a baby and _hold still._"

She grabbed his chin again. Hiruma shot her a glare that she ignored but had to concede that she was right and held still, wincing, as she dabbed at the scrape with the alcohol before applying a band-aid with neat precision.

"Okay, other side." The warm fingers turned his head to the left and down so she could inspect his temple. He wondered if she knew that from this angle, he had a good view of the soft skin at the side of her neck and could almost see down her shirt.

Oblivious, she made a face. "Well, this side is not bleeding, but you have a pretty big bruise and bump. I think I have something to put on that...Don't worry, this one shouldn't sting."

He snorted at the amused tone in her voice. "It better not."

She got the ointment out and started applying it to the bruise and the bump. She was telling to the truth and it didn't sting-in fact, the coolness of the salve helped relieve a little of the pain and the circular rubbing motions were...relaxing. Hypnotic, really. Hiruma felt his eyes closing, shoulders dropping and head nodding forward even more until it fell against her shoulder. The rubbing stopped briefly and he was about to say something when it started up again.

He was half asleep when she finished and she had to nudge him. He jerked away from her and blinked in the suddenly bright light. Shit, he was more tired than he thought.

"All done," she told him smiling.

He rolled his eyes up trying to see the band-aid. Since she was looking at him expectedly, he forced a laugh. "Kekeke. I suppose you don't make a half-bad nurse."

Apparently his attempt at normal teasing didn't work, and the smile faded. She gave him that worried expression again and he had the irrational urge to smooth out the little frownline between her brows with his finger. But she only asked, "Have you eaten yet?"

* * *

An hour later, they were sitting together on the couch watching TV as they ate the udon Mamori had whipped up. Being actually put together and cooked vs. the instant stuff that Hiruma usually nuked in boiling water, it was pretty good.

Neither of them were saying anything but the silence wasn't awkward-if it was one thing made her stand out from other girls, it was that she didn't feel the need to always fill the silence with inane babbling. And when she did talk, it was rarely to say something stupid. That fucking dread Agon may go for air-headed bimbos (all the easier to get into their pants, probably) but Hiruma never had time for it. Idiots could be useful at times-Taki was a prime example-but dealing with the stupidity was exhausting. And the fake dumbness and "oh poor girly weak little me" act that so many girls seemed to think was cute was even worse.

Anezaki Mamori never tried that. In fact, playing down her intelligence probably had never occurred to her. She could still be a real pain in the ass, but he could respect her willingness to stand up for what she believed in (even if it was silly concerns about the effectiveness of firearms in sports training). And, though he would never tell her this, it was a relief to find someone who could actually keep up with him. Kurita was a good guy, but way too willing to follow his lead; Musashi was a little better but hadn't been around; and the rest of the team were too frightened of him to try. Mamori could spot patterns and analyze nearly as well as he could (though he still thought she was too linear in her thinking) and was willing to challenge him with reasoned arguments on those points she didn't agree with.

That's what he liked most about her, he supposed. That she made a nice bit of eye candy on the sidelines of a field too often full of gonks didn't hurt either, but he would have probably still liked her if she wasn't as good looking. Looks had never been the ultimate thing that attracted him to a girl.

Hiruma paused and reran his last few thoughts in his head. Damn, he really must be losing it if he was thinking along _those _lines. When the last show ended, he put his empty bowl on the coffee table and got up.

"Where are you going?"

He looked at her. "Home, where do you think?"

"And where is that?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "What do you care?"

"Because I'm afraid you're not going to make it. Look at you, you're still almost falling over."

He rolled his eyes. "I'll be sure to watch out for more fucking midgets throwing fucking balls at my fucking head."

She glared at him. "That's not it." Narrowing her eyes, she pointed one finger and poked him.

He couldn't stop a spasm and a hiss. After the food and the rest, the pain in his body had faded to a sort of only vaguely agonizing creak. With the select poke, however, it flared at that point and then seemed to spread.

"See? You'll barely make it down the street." She paused. "Why don't you stay here? The sofa pulls out into a bed and it can't be any worse than whatever hotel you are staying at."

"Hotel-how do you know that?" he snapped at her.

Mamori shrugged. "Kurita told me."

"Fucking fattie," he muttered before saying louder, "I'm not staying here."

"Why not?"

Ok, he took that back. Her habit of arguing with him _was _annoying. Alright, well she was a modest sort of girl so... He gave her an evil grin. "Your parents aren't home."

Shit, he definitely wasn't up to form. She didn't even notice. "And how do you know _that-_oh." She spotted the note on the table and shook her head. "It's fine. I'm sure they won't mind. And since when do you care what _parents _think?"

"You are completely missing the point-"

"What point?" She paused for a second and thought. A second later, a brief flush touched her cheeks. "Oh."

"Yeah," he said sarcastically.

"Well, that doesn't matter, does it?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, I trust you won't try anything." She laughed a little. "Besides, you don't really think of me like that, do you?"

He opened his mouth to say a zillion things-say yes to see her reaction, laugh at her naivety, blurt something crass to get her to toss him out-when those warm hands grabbed his arm and she said quietly, "I won't tell anyone. What do you have to prove? I told you this afternoon that you don't need to play tough _all _the time."

Hiruma looked down at those sincere blue-green eyes and wondered, _What the hell? Fucking manager, are you for real?_ But damn it, he was tired, his head hurt, and he was still about 20 blocks from his hotel. He rubbed his face and muttered, "Goddamn it. _Fine." _

He was rewarded with a bright smile and she bustled off again, this time to the linen closet. In no time at all she had the couch made up into probably the most comfortable bed he'd ever seen.

"The bathroom is just down the call, there are some cups by the sink if you get thirsty at night and-"

Hiruma was already lying down. "You're _hovering, _fucking manager. Go away and go to bed. I'm not going to run away in the middle of the fucking night." He turned over and was almost asleep before he hit the pillow.

Almost. Like he almost didn't hear her soft "Good night, Hiruma" or her equally soft touch against his hair. And like he almost wondered what would happen he wasn't too tired to try something and almost realized that Anezaki Mamori was the only girl he ever thought about trying something with. Ever. Because Mamori was the only girl he'd ever felt comfortable around, the only girl to ever come close to understanding him...and the only girl to ever care enough about him to insist he stay and rest because she was worried about his health and safety.

He almost thought. Almost.


	9. Bruise

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

**Short Pass: Bruise**

_That was the last straw._

They were walking back to Habashira and their units of transportation when Hiruma saw it.

"Fucking manager, what the hell did you do to your arm?" She had been rubbing it ever since she and the fucking shrimp had gotten back but now out in the sunshine—

"Ah! Mamori-neechan!"

"Mukyaa! What happened?"

The manager flushed in embarrassment at all the attention. "It's nothing, really—" There was a faint bruise at the back of one of her biceps but that was nothing compared to the now rather livid marks of a thumb and four fingers in the same area. She had obviously been grabbed and then likely thrown by someone.

"Oh no…." Sena had one of those guilty looks on his face again. "It must have been when I…"

"MUKYA? You did this to Mamori?"

"No!"

Before the fucking monkey could tackle the fucking shrimp, the fucking manager hurriedly sketched out what happened when she went to help Sena find his student planner. She tried to gloss over where she had been hurt by praising Sena for his attempt to help her, but Hiruma still went cold inside when she described who the attacker was.

"He had sunglasses and long hair in dreadlocks—"

Hiruma and Kurita looked at each other. "Agon," the quarterback spat. Well, that figured that the fucking dread was responsible for this. The bastard went for anything pretty and female, and the manager certainly qualified.

"I'm sorry, Mamori-neechan, I should have been quicker—"

"No, its okay. I'm proud of you for trying to stand up for me!"

"You better get that looked at when we get back," said Kurita mournfully.

"It's just a bruise—"

"it's not just a fucking bruise," Hiruma snapped. "Don't be a fucking idiot and go to the fucking infirmiary."

Everyone stared at him and he picked up the pace so they had to scramble after. _That fucking dread. _It wasn't that he was mad that the fucking manager got hurt. It's not that he liked her or anything. But after Kurita…this was the last time. The absolute last time he was going to allow that fucking dread to do anything he fucking well liked.

The quarterback's trigger finger twitched. _Agon is fucking dead. _


	10. Birthday

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21. Darn.

Author's note: Follows shortly after Short Pass: Almost.

**Short Pass: Birthday**

_It's the little things. _

It started with a box.

A box wrapped in pretty red metallic paper, tied with a gold ribbon edged in black. When she unwrapped it, inside was probably the biggest creampuff she had ever seen, Kariya's special super deluxe edition, and a small card saying, "Happy Birthday." There was no name.

Mamori stared at it. It was sitting in her locker when she got to school that morning and she had no idea who it was from. She might have worried how it could have gotten in her _lock_er in the first place, but it wasn't as if Deimon High had very secure locks. If you popped the door in the right place, it would spring open-she'd had to help Sena numerous times when he forgot his combination. Come to think of it, she'd given Sena her combination when he first started at Deimon as another place to store his stuff, since the bullies used to steal things from his locker and make him do errands to earn them back.

She took the box to practice that day and beamed at her de-facto little brother. "Thank you so much, Sena!"

The boy blinked at her, pausing in the middle of lacing up his shoes. "For what, Mamori-neechan?"

She held out the box. "For this! I wasn't sure that you remembered."

"Remember what-AHH!" Sena's face contorted in a ghastly manner. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot!"

"Forgot what?" Monta asked him.

Mamori's heart sank a little. She hadn't wanted to make a big deal this year, what with everything going on and them still buzzing about what they had learned at the Oujou school festival yesterday, but she would have thought that _Sena _would have remembered on his own. Oh well. "It's okay," she reassured the running back. "I didn't say anything-"

"What's going on?" asked Suzuna, skating up. She eyed Sena's face, which was a terrible mask of guilt. "What did you do?"

Sena gave her a tragic look. "I-I-I forgot it's Mamori-neechan's birthday."

Silence.

"MUKYAAA?"

"WHAT?"

Mamori was mortified. Now the whole team was running over, trying to figure out what was going on. "No really! It's ok!"

"Why didn't you _say _anything?" Suzuna demanded.

"Well, we've been so busy lately that I-"

Sena was desperately searching his stuff. "I...I have a pencil I haven't used yet," he said, looking like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He held it out to her. "You can have it, if you want..."

Mamori laughed. "No, you can keep it-"

Not to be outdone, Monta shoved a banana in her face. "I haven't eaten this banana yet-"

Suddenly everyone was pushing things at her. New erasers, pens, a loaf of bread (Kurita), a reference book (Yukimitsu), the newest issue of Jump (Toganou)...

"It's fine!" Mamori cried desperately, trying to make herself heard over the babble of voices. "No, I don't need an autographed picture, Taki-"

BANG. "What the fuck is going on out here?"

Everyone jumped and turned around to see Hiruma standing at the clubhouse door. He'd fired a shot in the air.

"We forgot Mamori-neesan's birthday!" everyone told him.

He stared at them all and blew a bubble. "And what," he said, "the _fuck _does that have to do with anything? Get on the field, you fucking brats!" He fired another shot that sent them scrambling to their practice areas.

Suzuna, however, didn't. Instead she put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "What do you mean, what does that have to do with anything? A girl's birthday is very important!"

"Do you know who put this in my locker?" Mamori asked.

He looked at her and then grinned in that evil way of his. "Kekekekeke! Of course."

"Really?" Then Mamori wondered why she was so surprised. Hiruma probably knew what everyone in school had for breakfast that morning. "Then can you tell me who-"

"Run faster, idiots!" he yelled, striding out onto the field. "Do you think that you think you'll beat Oujou with those slow asses? I'll get Cerberus out if you don't-"

Suzuna sighed, and picked up her pom-poms. "You-nii is impossible sometimes." She walked over to where the rest of the cheerleaders were. "Okay girls, routine 21!"

_Well...thank you, whoever you are, _Mamori thought, setting the box carefully aside and picking up her clipboard.

* * *

"I'm surprised you haven't finished that yet, fucking manager."

Mamori looked up to see Hiruma leaning back in his chair, looking pointedly at the remains of the creampuff still sitting at her elbow. As usual for after practice, they were alone in the clubhouse. She was sitting at the table, trying to organize her notes from the Oujou Knights vs. Sado Golem game, while he was typing away at that computer of his doing...well, whatever he did to come up with all those plays.

"Well...it's Kariya's super deluxe size," she answered. There was still about a quarter left. "I'd get sick if I ate it all at once. Besides, I owe it to whoever gave it to me to savor it, don't you think?"

"Hmph." He turned back to his computer. "You're weird, fucking manager." He typed away for a few more minutes before realizing that she was still looking at him. "What?"

"How's your head?"

"Fine. Don't worry about it-I _told _you not to worry about it."

She'd gotten up to take a look herself. "I don't trust your 'fine," she retorted. "You told me you were _fine _after the game against Shinryuuji and you passed out in the street."

"I didn't pass out, those damn kids _threw a ball at my fucking head-"_

"Which you could have dodged if you were _actually_ fine, but you weren't, so you didn't," she said matter of factly, gently pushing blond strands back from his hairline and temple to check on the scrape and the bump. He continued to hit buttons and blow bubbles. "Hmm...well, it looks like its scabbed over and the swelling is pretty much gone."

The bubble popped. "I told you," he said again and powered down his laptop. She stepped aside as he slid it into his bag and headed for the door-except he stopped to look down at the open creampuff box.

"Huh," he said, putting another piece of gum in his mouth. "I forgot." Opening another pocket in his bag, he took out something and placed it next to the creampuff before grinning at her stupefied expression. "There."

His laughter faded out the door as she slowly moved toward the table. Reaching into the box, she pulled out his new addition and smiled. It was a little figure of herself to match the ones he used to illustrate plays.

On the bottom was written, "Happy fucking birthday, manager."


	11. Flowers

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

Author's note: Because Sena X Suzuna is cute too.

**Short Pass: Flowers**

_Hiruma Yoichi's version of a pep talk._

The Deimon Devil Bats returned from the not-so-secret meeting with the Dinosaurs' manager in a somber mood-Gaou was probably the most terrifying lineman they had encountered yet and all the flowers Marco had sent them were now depressingly appropriate if for their _funerals._

Hiruma took one look at his downcast team and decided that some cheering up was on order. In true Hiruma-fashion, this meant ordering them to pile all the flowers on the field so they could blow them sky-high.

"So did you think she was pretty?" Suzuna asked suddenly. They were walking together with armfuls of flowers.

"Who?" Sena asked.

"You know," she said, but she wasn't looking at him for some reason, "the other team's manager."

"Oh." Sena set his armful down. "I guess? I mean, I wasn't really paying attention. Not to be rude or anything! I know girls like to be told that they are pretty. I think. That's what Mamori-neechan said to me once. Or maybe it was my mom? Or...er...anyway, I suppose she was pretty? But then I got scared by Gaou so, er..."

"What would you have done if it _was _a love letter?" she teased.

"I don't know. I never gotten one before so didn't really believe it when we all thought that's what it was..." He laughed nervously. "I mean, who would like _me, _haha..."

Suzuna smacked his arm playfully as they walked back to the clubhouse to get more flowers. "Lots of girls, silly! Everybody thinks Eyeshield 21 is really cool now, you know." She looked at his face and frowned. "Hey, isn't that a good thing?"

"Well..." He scratched the back of his head. "It's weird. Eyeshield 21 isn't me. I mean, he is, we're the same person, just...not. I'm not really as cool as it looks from the stands, I'm sure. I'm not real strong like Kurita, or really smart like Hiruma, and I can't catch or kick like Monta or Musashi...all I can do is run-ow!"

Suzuna was pinching his cheeks and stretching them out. She let go. "Don't be silly," she said, handing him a bunch of blooms. "I think that Kobayakawa Sena is just as cool as Eyeshield 21. Cooler, even, because I met Sena first."

"Oh." He blushed, looking down. "Thanks." _And I think that Suzuna is cuter and nicer that Maria, _he thought, but didn't have the courage to say that out loud.

"You're welcome," Suzuna told him brightly, picking up her own armful. They walked back to the middle of the field but Suzuna paused before putting her flowers down. "I know that Marco did it just to be mean, but it's still kind of a shame to just blow them up, don't you think? The flowers are really pretty."

Sena looked at her for a second before rummaging around in the pile. "Here."

Suzuna blinked at the bouquet in front of her. "What?"

"If you like them, you should keep some," he told her. "I mean...if you want."

"Oh." She beamed at him. "Thank you."

* * *

"Aren't they cute?" Mamori said fondly. She was watching Sena and Suzuna from the clubhouse door.

"What are you talking about, fucking manager?" Hiruma didn't even look up from the table where he was trying to decide which rocket launcher to use first.

"Sena and Suzuna, on the field-oh never mind." Mamori picked up her broom. She had been sweeping up the remaining blossoms that had fallen from the bouquets Marco had sent. "It is a bit of a shame though," she said after a minute. 'They _are _really pretty flowers."

Hiruma blew a bubble at her. "You do realize, that was not the _point. _That bastard Marco is trying to psych us out."

"I know that!" She bent down to push the petals she had swept from the floor into a bag. "But it's not their fault. Flowers can still be pretty."

Mamori froze as a pair of warm fingers touched her ear and looked up in surprise at Hiruma. He stood up, leaving a lily behind, and laughed at her.

"Kekekekeke! You can be such a _girl _sometimes, fucking manager. C'mon." He slung the bazooka over his shoulder and walked out.

"There's nothing wrong with being a girl," she told him, grabbing the bag, but she smiled where he couldn't see.

"Come on, fucking brats!" Hiruma roared. "The Dinosaurs are nothing to be afraid of. If we meet them on the field, what are we going to do?"

"We'll kill them!" everyone chorus.

"What are we going to do?!"

"WE'LL KILL THEM!"

"YA-HA!"

The heap of flowers exploded into a fireball of flame, sending sparking petals shooting into the air. One caught Taki on the seat of his pants as he spun around, causing him to shriek like a girl. He ran running across the field before Monta and Sena tackled him to beat the fire out. Cerberous gave Butaberous a look drooling with pig roasts. Suzuna sniffed deeply at her bouquet and Mamori fingered the bloom in her hair. Everyone laughed, including Doburoku-sensei, and the Devil Bats felt their optimism rise with the sweetly scented smoke.

The real dinosaurs went extinct, and the Devil Bats would send the Dinosaurs to join them.


	12. Sweet

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

**Short Pass: Sweet**

_He was sweet, in his own demonic way._

You know those days where nothing goes right, you have so much to get done but you can't focus, you feel like crap, and all you want to do is collapse somewhere and sleep until the end of the world?

Yeah, Anezaki Mamori was having one of those days all _week. _

A lot of it was her fault, she had to admit. There was enough on her plate with exams, Disciplinary Committee duties and the American Football Club, but then she agreed to help out the Student Council when their secretary had to stay home with the flu. She was starting to feel a little under the weather herself, due to a practice in the freezing rain last week, but she thought it was only a little bug that she could work through.

Only it didn'tgo away, but just got worse and worse until she drifted from class to practice to meeting to practice again in a fog. She ached all over and was so tired she couldn't concentrate half the time, but the constant pounding in her head and clogged sinuses wouldn't let her lie down to sleep. She really should have called in sick, but there was so much to do, that she promised to do, that she just trudged on.

As the days went by, her mood and focus got worse and worse. Several times in class she mumbled answers she didn't remember to questions she didn't hear, dropped her things in the hallway and got to places without remembering why. Things that never bothered her before suddenly grated on her nerves, and she was arguing more than ever with Hiruma.

She was fighting with him again on Friday morning, yelling at him in a shrill voice she hated, and she couldn't even remember why except suddenly he was just too annoying, too sarcastic, too spiky, too blond, too _everything _that she couldn't stand it.

So when he laughed at her again in that way of his, she slapped him.

The slap seemed to echo around the field as everyone and everything got dead quiet. There was nothing but the wind as everyone stared at her with slack jaws and wide eyes. Even the quarterback looked surprised and the anger drained away as abruptly as the blood in her face.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, mortified. Ridiculously, her eyes started to burn with tears. "I didn't mean to-" Her voiced choked off and there was nothing but the incredible need to _get away from here. _She spun around, slipped on the grass as the world tilted, and lost it.

Vaguely she could feel someone catching her before she hit the ground. She grabbed at them, babbling something about being sorry, being so sorry, but she was so tired, and ached, and couldn't _think_, and something wet and salty splashed over her knuckles until someone told her to, "Shut _up, _fucking manager," and the voice was familiar but not half as biting as it usually was, so she gulped and shut up. She was picked up, shaking as she closed her eyes and struggled to get a grip on herself as the voice carried her away while shouting for the fucking brats to keep practicing until he got back or he'd shoot their asses.

_What a funny thing to say, _she thought, but the smell of football leather and gun oil was soothing when it shouldn't be and she fell asleep.

* * *

Mamori woke up later, feeling like an old dishtowel, completely wrung out. She rubbed at the disgusting crusts over her eyes to blink blearily at the ceiling. Where was she? She struggled to sit up on the bed with arms like wet noodles until someone helped her. Just then a nurse bustled in, smiling brightly.

"Ah, you're awake! Let's check that temperature."

"Where am I-" A thermometer was deftly inserted into her mouth.

"You're in the school infirmary, my dear," said the nurse. "My goodness, but you must have been worn _out, _poor thing. You slept the whole day-"

Mamori's eyes widened. _The whole day? _That couldn't be. She glanced at the clock and stifled a scream. Oh no, she had missed an entire day of class, not to mention the rest of the football practice and the Student Council meeting and-

The nurse removed the thermometer and frowned. "Still a bit high. You need to go straight home for some bed rest and soup. Can you go with her? I don't think that she should go alone."

"I can't go home now," Mamori protested, though internally she protested her protest, her bed sounded _heavenly _right now. "I have too much work to do-"

Wait. Who was the nurse talking to? She turned around.

"Don't," Hiruma told her, looking especially spiky, "be ridiculous."

"H-Hiruma? What are you doing here?"

The nurse smiled. "He's the one who brought you in! He's also been checking on you every hour, along with that sweet little Sena and the rest of your friends. You made quite a lot of people worried, you know. You owe it to them to go home and get well."

"But I-"

"And you tell _me _I push myself too hard," Hiruma muttered. "I already got your damn homework. And I made the fucking fattie go take notes at that stupid Council meeting. I really don't know why you care about that stuff."

"Practice-"

"We can deal without you for one damn day, fucking manager. The fucking skate girl is coming over, anyway."

"See, your friend has everything taken care of," said the nurse. "Isn't he sweet?"

Both Mamori and Hiruma stared at her as if she'd grown horns.

"Okay," said Mamori in a small voice. "I'll go home."

"Good girl."

In a daze, Mamori got her coat on while Hiruma collected her bag. He held her arm to keep her from "weaving all over the fucking street," as they walked to the train station. Neither of them said anything as they boarded. He nudged her awake at her stop and then walked her the rest of the way home. Her mother opened the door.

"Mamori! You poor girl." Mamori was enveloped in a hug. "The school called me-why didn't you say anything earlier? Thank you for bringing her home."

Hiruma shrugged.

"I almost have your bed and some soup ready," her mother said. "Wait there a moment."

When she'd gone, Mamori turned to Hiruma. "Thank you. And I'm, um, sorry." She pointed at her cheek.

He laughed. "Kekekeke. I've had worse, fucking manager."

She flushed. "Okay, but um...Thank you."

"You already said that."

"S-sorry."

"Kekekeke! You said that too." The grin stayed, but there was an odd expression in his eyes as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Go to _sleep, _fucking manager," he told her finally. "And don't come back until you're feeling better. The last thing we need is the rest of the team getting sick."

This time she was better at reading the teasing note in his voice and just smiled as she waved the blond figure off. Her mother came back and hustled her off to bed. Mamori's last thought after she finished her soup and closed her eyes was that the nurse was right. He was sweet, in his own demonic way.


	13. Recognition

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

**Short Pass: Recognition**

_"Huh." Musashi blinked at him and then smiled a little. "Wow, that's actually...kind of romantic."_

Musashi was helping Hiruma weld the Segway to the oxygen capsule when he said it.

"Can you hand me that? And I think you should tell her."

Hiruma handed him the tool. "Tell who what?"

"Anezaki. I think you should tell her how you feel."

Hiruma was glad Musashi had his back to him at the moment. "Kekekeke! Have you gone senile, fucking old man? What are you talking about?"

"Hiruma." Musashi turned around and looked at him with a calm, steady gaze that Hiruma hated. It was the same sort of look he had when he kicked a field goal-whatever bullshit was going on with the other players, Musashi knew where the ball had to go.

Hiruma felt his characteristic evil grin slip. He had forgotten how much more perceptive the kicker was than Kurita. "Shit. How long have you known?"

Musashi shrugged. "Awhile."

"Does anyone else know?"

"Nope."

"Good." Hiruma felt something ease in his chest. "Then keep your mouth shut, fucking old man."

"I think you should tell her."

Hiruma laughed again and adjusted his sling. "Kekekeke! You said that, and it isn't any stupider the second time."

"What's stupid about it?"

"What isn't? Anyway, the whole fucking idea is ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous about it?"

Hiruma's eyebrow twitched. "What are you, a fucking broken record? The fucking manager and me..." For once, the quarterback was at a loss for words for how immensely impossible the idea was. "Anyway, you know how she reacted when Doburoku mentioned it."

"That was months ago." Damn it, Musashi was putting the tools down to face him directly. "She cares about you."

Hiruma rolled his eyes. "She cares about _everybody._" It was simultaneously one of the best and worst things about her.

"You didn't see her at the game," Musashi insisted. "When you got hit by Gaou, I thought she was going to faint. She looked like her world was ending."

Hiruma waved his good hand. "Like I said, she cares about _everybody. _If you or that fucking shrimp or even the fucking idiot got hit instead, she would have looked the same way-"

"She couldn't even stay on the field after that. She went to sit with you, and she cried for you didn't she?"

That, he admitted, had confused him. He would have thought that she would have wanted to stay on the field to support the rest of the team, but instead she followed him to the stadium infirmary like it wasn't even a question. And she _did _cry for him-and he had been very glad that he'd been swimming in and out of consciousness at that point, and had both his arms nearly broken to boot, or else he would have done something very stupid. He almost did anyway, when she was trying to convince him not to go back to the field, and remembered that third question he never asked her out of sheer desperation.

But that didn't make the idea any less impossible, and Musashi was looking at him with expression that was equal parts pity and sympathy but all kinds of annoying. "It was a tough game. She caught up in it, that's all. It doesn't change anything."

This time Musashi was looking at him in exasperation. "Hiruma, what are you afraid of?"

_A thousand things. _"It's not what I'm afraid of! It's what I fucking _know. _The fucking manager...Anezaki is," _kind, sweet, pretty, brave, smart, dedicated, determined, understanding, _"Anezaki and I'm me. Anezaki wouldn't go for a guy like me. And I'm sure as fuck not going to change, because that would be a lie, and I wouldn't lie to her. So...I'm the quarterback and she's the manager, and that's enough."

"Huh." Musashi blinked at him and then smiled a little. "Wow, that's actually...kind of romantic."

"Fuck off!"

The kicker chuckled. "Well, I can't make you say anything if you don't want to-"

"Damn straight."

"-but I still think you are being stupid. She's not going to be the manager of the Devil Bats forever. What are you going to do after graduation?"

"She'd be the manager of my college football team and we'll go to the Rice Bowl," Hiruma stated as if it was obvious.

"What if she doesn't _want _to be your manager anymore?"

_Crawl into a hole and blow myself up. _Well, not really. Probably. Though Hiruma wasn't sure he even knew how to function anymore if there was a manager-sized hole in his world. He tried not to even think about the possibility, because that way laid madness and if he broke down now, _everyone _was going to know and not just the fucking old man. Including her. Very little scared him, but that did.

So instead he pasted a grin on. "Kekekeke! Don't be an idiot. She loves being the manager."

It didn't fool Musashi for a second, damn him. But he gave his friend a break and picked up his tools again. "You're going to have to face up to it sooner or later," he said, "and Anezaki might surprise you."

"Do you want me to shoot you, fucking old man? Shut up and work."


	14. Valentine's Day

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

Author's Note: The obligatory Valentine's fic_._

**Short Pass: Valentine's Day. **

_First of all, it was pink. Overwhelmingly pink, which was just a red that didn't try hard enough. _

"Thanks for helping me out with this," Suzuna said.

"Sure!" replied Mamori. "I was planning on making some for the rest of the team anyway."

The two of them were in Mamori's kitchen, making chocolate. It was the day before Valentine's Day and Suzuna had asked the older girl for help in making the sweet treat. They had started at Suzuna's but Taki kept spinning in, declaring himself a master chocolatier despite a tendency to burn anything he put on the stove, and generally making himself a big nuisance. Suzuna had finally smacked him in the head with one of her skates and asked if they could go to Mamori's place instead.

The younger girl watched carefully as Mamori made the first batch. For the second, Suzuna took over. Under her friend's eye, Suzuna chopped the chocolate bars into fine slivers to melt easily into the just below boiling cream on the stove, stirred in a bit of liqueur for additional flavor and then carefully poured the mixture into a prepped tray.

"Perfect!" said the older girl. "Now we just put it in the fridge next to mine to firm up." She smiled at Suzuna. "There, not so hard, was it?"

Suzuna rubbed her forehead. _Easy for you to say. _The skate girl had been nervous the whole time, desperate not to mess up. She'd never been into supremely girly stuff like cooking and making sweets, and was always more interested in skating outside. Consequently the stove turned into this arcane object that terrified her when she decided that she wanted to make her own chocolates for this year instead of buying store-bought.

She really envied Mamori's graceful ease about the kitchen-and, actually her relative effortlessness in anything she seemed to do. From Sena, she knew that Mamori was one of the smartest people in her class, and involved in the school Disciplinary Committee as well as the American Football team. She stood up to You-nii on a regular basis and of course was extremely pretty. Suzuna might have hated her on general principle if Mamori wasn't also one of the nicest and least self-centered people she'd ever met. Because she was, Suzuna instead looked up to her enormously.

That didn't mean that she didn't like to tease her friend at every chance she got though.

"So," said Suzuna, bouncing on the couch as Mamori brought over a tray of snacks they could eat while the chocolate set, "who are you going to give your chocolate to?"

Mamori looked thoughtful. "Well, my parents, of course. My friends Sara and Ako. The American Football team. The other members of the Disciplinary committee-"

"No, not them!" Suzuna waved a hand impatiently. "I don't mean your friends and family, I meant is there anyone _special._"

Mamori got that long-suffering look on her face again, but Suzuna was determined. Suzuna had watched Mamo-nee and You-nii together during practices and it totally clicked. Really, they were _perfect _for each other. Mamori's sweetness and calm tempered Hiruma's over the top antics, while his craziness helped shake up her sometimes conservative-to-the-point-of-almost-stodginess. They would make the cutest couple ever and had so much chemistry they could run their own science experiment.

Too bad they couldn't see it. Suzuna had seriously thought something would happen after You-nii got hurt in the game against the Dinosaurs, or even the _Christmas Bowl _for goodness sake, but nothing. She was honestly almost to the point of locking them into the clubhouse until they had to confess to each other. But when she floated the idea to Sena the other day-after the running back had repaired his brain and come back from oblivion at the thought of his secondary mother figure and his hellish team leader getting together-Sena had suggested that it was better to let them work it out on their own. Thinking of how she had waited for him to reveal himself as Eyeshield 21, Suzuna had sighed and agreed.

That didn't mean that she couldn't still _nudge _them though.

However, Mamori responded to Suzuna's insinuation about You-nii like she always did. "Everyone is special to me, Suzuna." But then she turned the tables. "What about you? Did you make a special one for Sena?"

The skate girl blushed, and boffed Mamori with a pillow. "Not fair! You can't ask that!"

Mamori ducked and laughed. "Why not? You tease me about Hiruma all the time!"

"That's different!"

"Is it?" A funny smile played around Mamori's lips for a second but Suzuna was too embarrassed to notice and continue to attack her with the pillow.

* * *

Hiruma Yoichi thought that Valentine's Day was stupid. While he could appreciate the way the Japanese confectionary industry had manipulated the masses into spending wads of dough on the holiday each year, the holiday itself was still stupid.

First of all, it was pink. Overwhelmingly _pink, _which was just a red that didn't try hard enough.

Second, it was _sappy. _Everything and everyone seemed to have gotten hit with the lovesick idiot bat, and all week he was bombarded by sappy lovey-dovey posters, sappy lovey-dovey decorations, sappy lovey-dovey commercials and sappy lovey-dovey made-for-tv movies. How the hell was a guy supposed to plan how to utterly crush his opponents in one of the most physically brutal sports on the planet in the middle of all this crap?

Third, and the more egregious offense, the holiday seemed to make everyone _dumb. _Hiruma was used to being the smartest person in the room, but this was ridiculous. People who were decently intellectual the other 364 days of the year acted like their IQ's dropped a hundred points. There was the old adage "Love makes you stupid," but that was bullshit. Hiruma hadn't suddenly turned into an idiot.

Then he opened his locker on Valentine's Day and found it...empty. This wasn't an unusual occurrence. His locker was _always _empty on Valentine's Day. He couldn't remember ever getting any chocolate on this day, not even from his parents. Which was just fine with him. He was perfectly aware of his fearsome reputation-he specifically cultivated it, so why the hell would he be disappointed if no girl was brave enough to give him chocolate?

But he wasdisappointed. Not because no girl had given him chocolate but because a _certain _girl hadn't. Even though that girl appeared to have given chocolate to everyone else on the American Football team-and even the non-Deimon players who were just there to train for the World Cup like Shin and Kakei and Taka. She even gave some to _Gaou _for fuck's sake. The only other player Anezaki Mamori didn't give chocolate to was Agon, but that was only because the fucking dread never came to practice anyway.

Hiruma was disappointed, and mad at himself for being disappointed. What was he expecting, some sort of gushy declaration of love? There was 0% chance of that ever happening, especially since he had refused to take Musashi's advice and tell her how he felt because the idea was just as ridiculous now as it was then.

But he couldn't stop thinking about it, and the more he thought about it, the more irritated he got. He tried to hide it but evidently something was leaking out. At practice that afternoon, his gunshots and evil grins and curses had more bite than usual and the other players started looking at him strangely. He was glad to see them go afterwards, and went back to the clubhouse to attempt to lose himself researching their opponents again.

The problem was that the fucking manager was there as well, cleaning up, organizing files, checking their supplies and whatever else she did. Normally he enjoyed this time when it was just the two of them, but today her presence just grated. Their normal banter grew edged until finally she put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

"Hiruma, what is with you today? You've been angry about something all day and taking it out on everyone. What is it?"

"What's with me? What's with _you? _What the hell, did I piss you off again or something?"

She looked puzzled. "What? No. What do you-"

The quarterback couldn't take it anymore. "Then why the hell did you even give the fucking _caveman _chocolate and not me?"

She gaped at him, those blue-green eyes wide and that pretty mouth hanging open. "W-what? _That's _what you are so angry about? But I did! That's the first one I dropped off this morning!"

"Like hell. My locker was so empty I could fit my M-16 in it."

"I didn't put it in your locker, I put it in the clubhouse." She pointed at the table. "I know you always come here first so I put it on the roulette wheel so you would see it when you walked in this morning-"

They both looked down at a roulette wheel that was completely devoid of chocolate. There was, however, a curly white and red ribbon caught in the spokes-one end of it ragged as if yanked by a pair of teeth.

The quarterback and the manager stared at the ribbon, then at each other, and then ran outside to Cerberous's kennel.

"You goddamn dog-" Hiruma snarled. Cerberous grudgingly flopped over inside his house to allow Hiruma to pull out the sad tatters of more curly ribbon and red foil. There were even a few smears of chocolate still on the foil.

"Oh no..." groaned Mamori as she knelt down next to Hiruma to take a look. "He must have gotten in after I left this morning and stole it. Isn't chocolate bad for dogs?"

Hiruma shrugged. "I've never seen him get sick from any of the shit he eats."

Mamori's face looked tragic. "I'msorry, I should have put it in your locker after all." She sighed. "I even made it out of the darkest chocolate that I could find, since I know you don't like sweets."

Damn, now he felt like an ass. _She _was apologizing to _him. _All because of a stupid holiday. "Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure? I might still have some left, I can make you more tomorrow-"

"I said don't worry about it." She was looking at him with those sad eyes again. He forced a laugh. "Kekeke. It's a dumb holiday anyway."

Her hand was warm in his as he pulled her up. They walked back to the clubhouse in silence and Hiruma made himself comfortable in front of the computer again, this time to actually concentrate. Mamori walked around, finishing her cleanup and taking the kettle off the hot plate to pour him a cup of tea.

She set the cup in front of him and called his name. "Hiruma?"

"Hmm?" He flicked through the latest online reports of Panther's player stats. _He's going to be a problem..._

"I'm going now. Don't stay up too late, ok? And I'm sorry about the chocolate."

He snorted. "Ke! For the last time, don't worry about it. It was the damn dog's fault." He flipped to Clifford D. Louis's stats next, then-she was still standing there. He looked up. "Fucking manager-"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off as soft strands of auburn hair brushed his face and warm lips pressed against his cheek.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Hiruma," she whispered, cheeks bright. Then she rushed out the door.

This time it was his turn to gape and he continued to stare at the place where she had been long after she'd gone. Long fingers touched his cheek where the feeling of the kiss still lingered. Suddenly he burst out laughing and smiled the first true smile he'd had all day.

Well. Maybe it wasn't such a stupid holiday after all.


	15. Fear

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

**Short Pass: Fear**

_Drabble in a quiet moment. Phobias are irrational, that's why they are phobias. _

For once, there wasn't a game that weekend for the Devil Bats, so Mamori decided to take the opportunity to clean the clubhouse. Its condition had taken a rather severe nosedive from when she first joined the team-first by general neglect when they all went to America for over a month, then through just inattention as the Devil Bat's practices ramped up and Mamori got more involved in plotting strategy with Hiruma that an usual manager did.

When the sea of decay from when she first joined started to creep back in, Mamori decided to put her foot down.

She arrived early that morning with a bucket, a new broom, plenty of soap, an apron and gloves. It was going to be a _big _job, courtesy of Hiruma's rather lavish additions and renovations to the structure-it was hardly recognizable as the poky little storeroom from that spring. Hiruma appeared after she finished the locker rooms, and they got in a friendly little fight when she told him to clean up the various firearms littering the place. When he refused, she invoked the Cabinet Incident (which in retrospect was not quite as terrible as she had thought at the time) and threatened to do it herself. At the thought of losing all his bullets again, Hiruma cursed her but complied as she beamed at him brightly.

He had finished by the time she had finished tidying away all the game tapes, pens, markers, stray equipment, old chip bags and those random little figures Hiruma used to map out plays.

All that was left was to sweep out the front room. Mamori made sure to get every nook and cranny, and even the ceiling corners. Hiruma cursed her again as she kept making him and his laptop move to get every last spot, and blew bubbles with particular violence. She just deflected the expected bullets and finished up. She was chasing the last bit of debris outside the door when..._it..._appeared.

Anezaki Mamori was often told that she was a brave girl. Her, perhaps slightly overdeveloped, maternal instincts made her stand up to all bullies, regardless of size, age or power; she regularly argued with Hiruma Yoichi, a name most others ran screaming from; and she attended all the Devil Bats' games and practices, even if she didn't participate as intensely as they did. People sometimes wondered at Hiruma's humanity, given his tendency to project the Evulz; they also sometimes wondered at hers, given her tendency to project the extreme opposite.

So it was something of a shock even to Hiruma when she suddenly gave out high-pitched shriek and ran screaming from the door.

He almost dropped his computer. _The fuck? _He did grab his favorite rifle and launched a hail of bullets across the room...only to see nothing.

"Fucking manager, what the hell-"

A second shock came when she barreled into him, almost tipping both him and his chair over.

"Goddamn-" He'd grabbed her out of reflex. Her front was plastered to his as she hung on to him with a terrified death grip, babbling incoherently. The smell of the soap she had been using, as well as the strawberries in her shampoo wafted to his nose. This wasn't good, for more reasons than one, and he panicked slightly. "What are you-"

"T-there! There! Door, the...thing. It just came out! And it-gah!"

She shivered against him and, wouldn't let go even when he tried to pry her arms from around his neck. Instead, she buried her face deeper, like she was going to somehow burrow into his heart. _Shit. _At a loss-he was not the comforting type, damn it-he let his hands fall awkwardly to her waist until the shaking slowed. When it did, he tried again.

"You're acting even stupider than the fucking idiot." Well, he did say he wasn't the comforting type, right? "What the hell did you see? A fucking mouse or something?"

She shook her head, the strands of her hair tickling his neck. "N-not a mouse."

"Then what the fuck is it?" When she didn't answer, he huffed. "This is stupid, come on."

"No, wait!"

But with the initial stages of her freak-out past, she didn't have the terrified super-strength anymore and he was able to detach her enough to stand up. She shuffled to his back instead, blue-green eyes wide in a pale face. He reached the door and looked down.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Is it still there?" Mamori asked. When he didn't answer, she peered fearfully over his shoulder...only to jump back when the spider scurried forward. "Ah!"

"Kekekekeke! " Hiruma laughed so hard he cried. "You're afraid of fucking spiders?_ Spiders?_ KEKEKEKEKE!"

"It's not funny!" she protested. "It's HUGE! I was sweeping and it just came out and-"

"Kekekeke!" Hiruma couldn't stop. "Look what all your damn cleaning gets you. Oh my fucking god, you are afraid of fucking SPIDERS!"

"Would you just do something about it already?"

Snickering, Hiruma pulled out a Glock and blasted the arachnid to kingdom come. Mamori was so relieved she ignored the three new holes in the clubhouse floor.

He grinned down at her, still extremely amused. "That's what I like about you, fucking manager, you always make things so goddamn interesting."

Mamori froze. "What?"

Hiruma froze. "What?" _Shit. _To cover, he hastily added, "Are you going to hold on to me for fucking ever, or are you going to let me get some feeling back into my arm?"

"S-sorry." Mamori was still holding on to his arm with white fingers. She let go as if it burned, but that was nothing compared to what her face felt like as she remembered how she had practically jumped into his lap. Hopefully he would just take her red face as embarrassment for the shrieking at a spider thing. Though it was really bad that she was at a point where _that _was the lesser of the two evils.

She grabbed her broom. "Th-thank you," she managed, taking a deep breath. "I'll just...finish up here."

He was still grinning at her in that way of his where she couldn't decide if she wanted to smack him or kiss him or-oh no, she was _not _going to think about that right now. Mamori turned around and hurriedly pretended intense preoccupation with sweeping the last pile of dirt out the door.


	16. White Day

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

Author's Note: Well, if I did a Valentine's Day one, I _have _to do a White Day one, right? For those who don't know, traditionally on Valentine's Day its the girls treating the guys-on White Day (mid-March), it's the guys' turn to treat the girls back. Google it for more info :)

**Short Pass: White Day**

_Sweets to the sweet._

"Agh...Mukyaaa..."

Sena looked at his friend. "Monta, what's wrong?"

The receiver gave him an agonized look. "I don't know what to get Mamori-neesan for White Day!"

"White-" The color abruptly drained from Sena's face.

Monta stared. "Don't tell me-you forgot?"

"Oh no...It's tomorrow, isn't it? Oh _no..._I need to get something for Mamori-neechan and," he gulped, "S-Suzuna... What am I going to do?"

"What are you going to do? What am _I _going to do? I need to come up with the perfect gift for Mamori-nee so that she will...Mukyaa..." Monta got that dreamy, blushy look on his face that he always did when he was fantasizing about his crush. It always squicked Sena a little out, since Mamori was like his big sister.

"Hey, practice doesn't start until a little later today since we have to wait for the other World Cup players to arrive from their schools. Why don't we run to the store really quick after class to go White Day shopping?" suggested Sena.

"Great idea! We can..."

Their voices faded away as they passed down the hall, and didn't notice a certain spiky haired blond frozen at his computer.

_Shit. _

If Hiruma Yoichi had thought that Valentine's Day was stupid, he had never even given a thought to White Day. Why would he? He had never gotten any Valentine's, so never had been under any obligation to do anything on White Day. But this year...

_Warm lips against his cheek. "Happy Valentine's Day, Hiruma."_

"Goddamn it."

"Hiruma?" Kurita gave his friend a questioning look, pausing in the middle of his second breakfast. "Is there something wrong?"

Hiruma didn't answer, lost in thought. Kurita was about to ask him again when the blond blew and popped three bubbles in rapid-fire succession before typing madly on his computer.

But while the quarterback could come up with 17 different plays on the spot during a football game, for some reason the appropriate White Day gift eluded him.

Flowers would be too...obvious. So would jewelry. Stuffed animals seemed so banal. Clothing would just be creepy. And a gun, while he had plenty of spares, didn't seem right.

Eventually, late that night, he came up with the idea to give her a creampuff. True, he'd already given her one for her birthday, but it was something he at least knew she would like. The problem was, this late at night the Kariya bakery was closed. And while he had blackmail material on the owners like he did everyone else in the country, he didn't have their home address to go wake them up.

But he lived in a fucking hotel, right? They had a kitchen, with all the ingredients and shit. And how hard could making a creampuff _be? _Baking was just an edible form of chemistry, right? Couldn't be any harder than making a bomb, and he had certainly done enough of those...

* * *

Mamori had a pretty good White Day. She received little gifts from everyone she had given chocolate to-the gift of a banana shaped hair clip from Monta was particularly notable, as it took him a good five minutes to get the words out before turning as red as the Devil Bats' uniforms and running off to class.

So yes, it was a good White Day. So why did she feel so disappointed? It was ridiculous to feel let down because a certain spiky-haired blond didn't give her anything. After all, she hadn't technically given _him _anything on Valentine's Day because Cerberus had eaten it. Well, except for...but did the kiss really count? It was only a little peck on the cheek and the next day he hadn't acted like anything had happened.

But she did feel something a little hollow in her chest, especially after she witnessed the sweet way Sena nervously gave Suzuna a little necklace with an American Football charm on it.

She sighed. She was being silly.

"What are you sighing about? You got enough gifts to fill out a fucking store."

"What?" She spun around to see Hiruma grinning at her. "I wasn't sighing!"

He popped at bubble at her. "Sure you weren't. What, you're so greedy you want even _more?_"

"That's not it at all! I was just-"

"Here."

"Eh?" Hiruma tossed something at her, and Mamori had to drop her broom to catch the little box. "What is this?"

"What does it look like?"

Mamori looked down at the little silver box with the white bow. She opened it.

It was a creampuff. At least, she thought it was a creampuff. She could smell the sugar and butter, and she could see where some of the cream had smeared a little against the side of the box. But it kind of looked a little...misshapen...

_Don't tell me... _She stared at him. Mamori had noticed that Hiruma looked a little tired that morning, but she had assumed that he'd stayed up all night running through the game videos again. Had he been doing something else...? She took the little fork inside the box and sectioned out a small chunk to eat.

And, well, it was clearly _not _a Kariya creampuff. The taste was...unique. But he was looking at her, with this uncharacteristically nervous expression in his eyes, and the longer she chewed the more fixed his grin became.

She swallowed and smiled at him. "Thank you, Hiruma. It's quite good."

She was rewarded as relief flooded into his eyes and he laughed. "Kekeke! Don't eat it all at once, fucking manager."

"I won't! I'll savor every bite," she told him as he brushed past her to head out the clubhouse door.

"Keke! Whatever." She thought his cheeks might have been a little flushed, but he turned away from her to pick up his M-16. Maybe it was the light.

After he left, Mamori looked down at the creampuff again and felt the hollow in her chest fill up. Her comment about the taste may not have been completely honest, but she had been telling the truth about savoring every bite. It may not be from Kariya, but a Hiruma creampuff was far rarer and much more special.

She beamed to herself. Mamori had a very good White Day.


	17. Words

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

**Short Pass: Words**

_He says what he means, but does he mean what he says?_

Hiruma Yoichi was a complicated person.

Or at least, that's what most people thought. He didn't think he was half as complicated as they did, it was just most people didn't think to look past the surface.

For example, he always said what he meant to. If what he _meant _wasn't always what he _said, _well. That wasn't his problem, was it? People needed to listen better.

Besides, most of the time, he _did _mean what he said. It was just that foul words and rough language were usually the most succinct way to get his point across.

"Fucking dread."

_Agon, you complete and utter bastard. 90% of the time I want to completely forget your existence, you utter waste of a human being, but 10% of the time you are useful so I will address you. But only by that stupid haircut. You do know you are Japanese, right? Why the hell do you want to look like the lead singer in a reggae band?_

"WE WILL KILL THEM!"

_Now is your chance to use your training to beat their asses so far into the ground that dirt will be coming out of their eyeballs. _

"You worry too much."

_You do, fucking manager. The brats are stronger than you think, if you would just give them a chance to try._

"Fucking X, do X if it kills you!"

_Well, duh, not literally. But if you don't give it your all, you'll feel really badly about it yourself, so don't be stupid and hold back. If you hold back but still don't feel bad about it, what the hell is your pansy ass doing on my team?_

Occasionally, though, there were times where what he said was the exact opposite of what he meant. There were various reasons for this, but he chose not to delve into them. If he did, that meant admitting soft, squishy emotions, and Hiruma didn't do well with soft and squishy. Hard and spiky (liberally sprinkled with explosions) was easier.

"Leave him! This is the _Death_ March, dammit."

_He'll catch up, don't worry. _

And of course, the grand-daddy of them all...

"Fucking manager!"

_I love you._


	18. Confession

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.

Author's Note: To all my readers, thank you!

**Short Pass: Confession**

_Finally. _

Even after her second year and being technically unable to participate in sports teams by Deimon High's rules, Mamori still went to the clubhouse. She had gotten rather attached to the place and would often go there to keep an eye on Sena and the other players or even do her homework. The other upperclassmen would also hang out there too, so Mamori didn't feel so foolish about it.

One weekend, Mamori went there to clear her head. She had recently gotten acceptance letters from several universities and was having trouble choosing one. Unbidden, she wondered where Hiruma was going, and had gotten annoyed with herself. However, when she arrived at the clubhouse the blond was already there, typing away at his computer as usual. He didn't look up as she entered though, so she emptied her bag onto the table and began to organize the letters in alphabetical order before making a neat little list of pros/cons of each college on a piece of paper. After about an hour, she had it narrowed down to three, but the three were so close that she might as well have been at the beginning again.

Hiruma was still typing away at his computer. Once again, Mamori wondered where he was going—though this time she thought that perhaps it would be a good idea _not _to go where he was going. Her feelings, even tamped down as severely as she could, would make it torture.

"Trying to decide where to go?" Hiruma asked suddenly, jerking Mamori out of her reverie.

"W-what? How did you know that?"

He blew a bubble derisively at her. "That's only what you have been doing for the last hour."

Embarrassed, she looked away. She hadn't thought he'd been paying attention. "Well, I have it narrowed down to three, but they are all really good schools—"

"You're going to Saikyodai, dumbass," said Hiruma, sounding annoyed.

Her eyes narrowed. "I am?" Mamori asked, annoyed.

"To be the American Football manager," Hiruma replied, sounding as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He turned back to his computer. "That's where I'm going. I'll be the quarterback."

"That's already decided?" she asked in surprise.

"Kekekeke…The one they had is a fucking chump and not really interested in the game anyways. The team needs to be whipped into shape, and you and I are the ones to do it."

"Why should I?" she demanded. "Don't just _assume. _Did it ever occur to you that I might get tired of gunshots, Death Marches, insane training, and spending all my nights and weekends at football practices, games or in here arguing over plays with you?"

_Liar, liar. _Inside her heart was laughing at her—those had been some of the best months in her life. But she wasn't going to just let him _decide _what she was going to do!

Hiruma's chair creaked as he leaned back to look at her. After a moment he smirked. "Che. Don't kid yourself. You love being the fucking manager."

Mamori felt anger bubbling up inside at her bluff being called so easily. In a fit of pique, she crumbed up the Saikyodai acceptance letter and threw it at the trashcan.

But the trash can was by Hiruma, who caught the paper in the downward ascent of its arc. He stared at her. "What did you do that for?"

"I'm not going to college just to be _your manager,_" she retorted hotly. "I'm not going to Saikyodai, not to be just another one of your _slaves _or _pawns." _

She shoved the rest of her letters and books into her bag with rough force and got up to leave, only to be stopped when he grabbed her arm.

"Let go!"

"That's not what I meant, you idiot."

"Then what did you mean?" She wrenched her arm free and sat back down, trying to compose herself. She was so angry she almost couldn't see straight, but had to calm down before she ran into the door frame and gave him another stupid entry in that stupid Threat Book of his.

Meanwhile, he was pacing back and forth on the other side of the table. Mamori pinched the bridge of her nose and forced herself to take deep breaths and count backwards from ten. When Hiruma still didn't say anything she said wearily, "Besides, you don't need _me _as a manager. I'm sure that you could find someone else—"

"Don't be stupid."

"I'm not. I would be very surprised if you hadn't already looked up every single person at Saikyodai and evaluated them for American Football. I'm sure at least one of them would make a good manager."

"What, and waste time training them in sign language and all the plays again?"

Mamori rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that you'll cope. Besides," she said, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to say the words, "don't you think it would be better for us to go our separate ways now?"

The blond froze.

"I mean, that's what you, Kurita and Musashi are doing, and I think that's a great idea." _No, no, no _her heart was saying, but she ignored it. "We should each have a chance to experience something new, and meet new people. Don't you think?"

"…Are you serious?" Hiruma asked in a strange voice. "You really think that?"

"Of course." She refused to look at him, afraid he'd see the lie in her eyes.

"You…can't."

"Why not?" Looking down, Mamori noticed that several papers were threatening to fall out of her bag, due to the uncharacteristically haphazard way she'd shoved them in. She leaned down to fix it. "Really, I don't see why you are arguing with me like this. I'd thought that you would be relieved not to have me around—"

"That's not—"

"What do you _want?" _she asked finally, exasperated. He didn't answer, and she gave up. Zipping up her bag, she was about to go-

"You. I want you."

Mamori suddenly found Hiruma's face very close to hers as he leaned across the table. She jerked backward. "W-what?"

He leaned forward even more, his blue eyes boring intensely into hers. "I said, I want you."

"Want me to do what? I already told you, I'm not going to be your manager-"

Irritation flashed over his face. "Are you dense?"

Her heart began to flutter but she firmly squashed it down. _That _could not be happening. _That _was not going to happen. She had known that for a long time. Mad at the suspicious feeling that he was using his height to cower her, she started to stand up. "Then why don't you try saying something that makes sense? For the hundredth time, I'm tired of just being your manager, and I'm not going to be another one of your pawns or slaves, so what else could you _possibly _want me for?"

The fingers on his right hand began to twitch, a sure sign that he was itching for one of his many weapons. "What do you _think?_"

"What?" Her heart began to flutter again, and once again she squashed it down. "H-How stupid do you think I am? Don't tell you'd be so low as to try _that. _Even when you kissed me, all that was to just get another entry in your stupid Threat Book! I'm not going to fall for that again—"

"_Anezaki Mamori,_" he snarled. "_Shut up."_

Her mind blanked. _He used my name. _And in that moment of hesitation, Hiruma yanked her forward. His lips met hers with crushing force—the kiss wasn't sweet or smooth or kind, but hungry and desperate and full of such need that her knees went weak. The world seemed to spin madly, and it didn't stop until he let her go. They stared at each other, breathing heavily.

"The first one may have been for the Book," Hiruma told her finally. "That one wasn't."

When she continued to gape at him, he let her go and began piling his stuff into his bag. Mamori watched him zip up his laptop in a stupor. He paused at the door, and, in a voice she'd never heard him use, said "I'm tired of you being just the fucking manager too. I don't want another slave or pawn. All the blackmail I had on you was torn up a long time ago. But…make up your own mind."

He left Mamori in the empty clubhouse, stunned and shaking. She lifted a trembling hand to her lips and this time when her heart started to flutter and swell, she let it.

"W-wait," she whispered. Then—"Wait!"

She ran out the door. Mamori didn't have the speed of Eyeshield 21, but later she would question whether he could have matched her that day, or even if, in the all the games he'd played, that he'd ever run such a significant distance or had so much on the line.

"Hiruma, wait! Please, wait! WAIT!"

Hiruma was just turning around when she grabbed his jacket, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

"What the hell—"

"Wait," she gasped, breathless. "Please…wait."

He blinked at her and opened his mouth…and then closed it. And waited.

"I…you…" Her heart was pounding in her ears. "Did you mean it?"

"What?" He glared at her. "Fucking—of course I meant it! What the hell—"

This time, Mamori yanked him forward to crash their lips together and after a moment he unfroze enough to tangle his fingers in her hair to pull her closer. The world spun again, but Mamori didn't mind because Hiruma tasted like triumph and victory and winning her own Christmas Bowl.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Mamori asked after they broke for air, Hiruma's hands cradling her to his chest as he lay on his back to stare at the sky. She smiled against his heart as his chest heaved in a huff.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She raised herself up on his hands so she was looking down at him. "Well…I guess it seemed a little…odd."

He snorted. "Odd? It was fucking ridiculous. I thought I was going insane. You are Anezaki Mamori, sweetheart of Deimon High—"

She raised an eyebrow. _Sweetheart?_

He gave her a look that warned her not to play coy, she was humble but not stupid, "—by the book Disciplinary Committee member and fucking surrogate mother to a fucking American football team. And I'm…me."

She swallowed a laugh.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I didn't think that I could ever have you." He reached out and wrapped a long-fingered hand around her wrist, as if to reassure himself that she was real. "But I could at least stay around you if you kept on as the manager. But when you said you weren't going to Saikyodai—"

He actually looked a little embarrassed and that was so utterly out of character that Mamori melted inside.

"Well," she said, eyes dancing, "I guess you were wrong."

"Yeah. You were a play I never could figure out."

She smiled and leaned down to kiss him again. "I promise that you'll have all the time in the world to try."

* * *

_Hah! Finally! That's it for Short Passes I think, but don't worry-the muse isn't done with me yet. Check out Long Passes for the sequel-what happens to HiruMamo in college?_


End file.
